


From Ruins

by riversdamsel



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-03 12:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 46,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10967061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riversdamsel/pseuds/riversdamsel
Summary: "The only reason she hasn't killed him yet is because he showed up as quite the surprise.  Madame will expect her to be patient, and River is sure her guardian will want to meet the king-no-longer-to-be before River pulls the very breath from his lungs.  After all, what is revenge without a little gloating?"Magic/Fantasy AU.





	1. and i tread a troubled track

**Author's Note:**

> Wow it feels so nice to be posting fic again! I've been working on this piece for a long time, and I'm really excited to be putting it up for other eyes to see! 
> 
> Magic/Fantasy AU. The Gallifrey in this story is not the same as in DW- I took some liberties with it, and also slightly altered the way regeneration energy works.
> 
> This story required me to create a new world, and while I had tons of fun with it, I am a bit nervous about pushing my baby out of the nest. Feedback would be lovely!
> 
> Chapter One title from "Back to Black" by Amy Winehouse

 

Everything hurts.  There is a painful thumping in his head, his chest feels constricted as he struggles for a breath, and...is the world  _moving_?

 

John opens his eyes, wincing at the light of day as if he had been sleeping for hours.  Wait.   _Had_  he been sleeping for hours?  For all he knows, he very well could have been.  The throbbing of his head increases as he attempts to remember exactly what happened.  His vision is blurry and mostly useless as he tries to gather his surroundings.  Lifting his head only a little, he confirms he is lying in an open cart that is indeed moving, a gentle sway that tells him a horse must be drawn in front.  Through the haze of his vision, John makes out the green of trees he passes under and tries to quell the rising panic in his chest.

 

_Where is he?_

 

_How did he get here?_

 

_What happened?_

 

Everything is fuzzy, and he jumps slightly as a figure moves in the cart next to him.  His movements feel sluggish, his limbs heavy, and he has no way to protect himself even if he wanted.  The figure leans over him, and a soft voice speaks, "Not yet, sweetie."

 

A woman, Johns gathers, but he doesn't have time to respond or try to demand answers before her hand is on his forehead, cool on his heated skin.  A jolt runs through him the moment she touches him, and then he is asleep once more.

 

XxX

 

_Earlier_

 

The northern palace rests secluded in the steep mountains of Gallifrey, far from the Capitol and isolated enough from civilization that John feels as if he can breathe a bit better.  It is unimaginable that any illegitimate child would have it easy, but being illegitimate  _and_  the only direct heir to carry on the royal lineage lends itself to more than its fair share of complications.  Particularly, the scorn and judgment that follows him whenever he steps foot into the Capitol.  So he prefers it here, out of the hot desert and away from the pretentious attitudes and snide remarks, surrounded instead by snow-covered mountains and forests of silver.

 

_'Son of the King or not, he'll never amount to royalty.'_

 

 _'He may be Gallifreyan through and through, but he'll never be_  my _king.'_

 

_'If his mother is a mystery, who's to say he really is the King's son?  For all we know, he could be both a bastard and an orphan!'_

 

Walking through the palace halls, John sneers at the harsh words echoing in his head.  To make it worse, he has no desire to one day be their sodding king.  Gallifrey can bloody well hang for all he cares. 

 

Deep down, John feels a twinge of regret at the thought.  He doesn't actually wish harm on the people who inhabit his home planet, he just wishes he were someone, almost  _anyone_ , else.  Gallifrey has never felt like home- always the black sheep, always the outcast, and he doesn't imagine that will ever change.

 

Despite all the negatives, there is at least one perk to being Gallifreyan royalty.  He has the ability to escape all of this- the people, the Capitol, the heavy responsibilities that come with being the only heir, and even the northern mountains that he has come to love above all else- if only for a little while.

 

Slipping through the darkened kitchen, John exits the palace through the servant door and is immediately hit with the frigid air of winter.  The palace guards roam the grounds, and he is thankful that there is no moon tonight to provide an orange glow that could easily get him caught.  Even under the cover of night, he is careful to creep along the hedges that line the walls.  The silver leaves rustle in the breeze, as if whispering encouragement for him to continue onward.

 

Snow crunches beneath his boots as he dashes to a small building separate from the palace, digging out keys and unlocking the door with shaking fingers.  No matter how many times he does this, he is always nervous.  Once the door is locked securely behind him, John turns to the object occupying the space and finally breathes a sigh of relief.

 

The  _HMS Regeneration_.  One of the only spacecrafts not currently active under the Royal Fleet.  It is small, capable of holding just two occupants, but he finds that to be part of its charm.

 

Slamming the button to open the roof of the building, John hops into the spacecraft with all the giddiness of a small child who had just been rewarded his favorite treat.  In the morning, he will return to his dreadful royal duties with a forced smile and a cheerful attitude, and no one will know he was ever gone.  But for tonight, he is free.

 

XxX

 

_Present_

 

The second time he wakes, it is dark and the pain he felt earlier has been reduced to a dull ache.

 

"You're either royalty or an incredibly skilled thief- care to clue me in as to which?"

 

John jumps at the voice, distantly associating it with the woman who spoke to him before he was returned to his slumber.  A match is struck, and he blinks a few times in an an attempt to adjust to the brightness.  The woman lights a number of oil lamps placed throughout the tiny space, and he becomes aware that is he lying on a sofa in a small cottage.

 

"Where am I?"  John rasps, his throat dry.

 

The woman tsks, setting a glass of water on the table in front of him.  "Deflecting my question?  Is that any way to speak to your savior?"

 

"Savior?  What happened?"  His memory is fuzzy, and he finds the more he tries to push through the cloudiness, the less he is able to remember.

 

"You crashed.  Fell right out of the sky.  It's fortunate that you Gallifreyans have regenerative abilities- and of course, that I have such a fantastic touch for healing."

 

Suddenly, he remembers.  Creeping out of the northern palace, cruising the  _Regeneration_  into the sky, finding peace in the calm that only space can offer.  Then, one of the engines failed and he was going down.

 

This isn't Gallifrey.

 

John bolts into sitting position at the realization, ignoring the throbbing pain in his side.

 

The woman huffs and sits on the edge of the sofa, forcing him back into lying position with a hand at his shoulder.  "No sitting just yet.  You're not about to undo all my hard work."

 

For the first time, John realizes that his torso is wrapped in thick bandages.  Ah, broken ribs, then.  His savior was right- without his self-healing abilities, the damage would have been much worse.  It probably was, but luckily regeneration can heal flesh wounds within minutes, though broken bones take a bit longer.

 

"I bandaged you up so that the bones would heal correctly.  I figure you'll be good as new by morning."

 

John tries not to let the panic show in his eyes, forcing his voice to be steady as he asks once again, "Where am I?"

 

The woman smirks, as if thrilled to be the one to enlighten him.  "You're on Orenda, I'm afraid.  Now I'll ask again- royalty or thief?  Think carefully- your life may depend on the answer."

 

 A lump forms in his throat.  Orenda.  A planet colonized by Gallifrey and governed by Kovarian.  Well, at least it used to be.  Until she gathered an army and rose up against the Crown, an effort that John's father quickly destroyed.  Literally.

 

"I thought everyone on Orenda was dead."

 

His savior smiles.  "Yet here I am.  "

 

The war ended decades ago and lasted hardly anytime at all.  Kovarian had been power-hungry, displeased with her position of overseeing the new planet and still answering to Gallifrey.  She wanted more, but her plan was ill conceived, and she never counted on the King sending all of his men to stop her.  Kovarian had taken care of those on Orenda who remained loyal to the Crown, and John's father had taken care of the rest, leaving Orenda barren of people.  At least, so John was told.

 

He is unsure how there are survivors, but the woman sitting before him is proof enough for him not to question it.  It is doubtful she would be pleased to hear that he is Gallifreyan royalty, and if she were, it would probably only be because she wishes to slit his throat.  Meeting her gaze, Johns feels his stomach tighten in a sudden rush of fear.  Her green eyes dare him to lie to her, and suddenly he understands that this woman already knows exactly who he is.  She knows that his tweed jacket embellished with the Gallifreyan crest isn't stolen, but she is giving him the opportunity to deny his blood connection regardless.

 

Lying would do no good, John concludes.  In fact, it may actually do him more harm than anything else.  

 

With a heavy swallow, John steels himself and speaks, "You got it right the first time- royalty."

 

She gives him a strange look, an eyebrow winging up as she comments, "Interesting, I was expecting the lie."

 

Curiosity getting the better of him, John asks, "Why did you save me?  I could've burned in the wreckage and not even regeneration energy could have kept me alive."

 

The woman scoffs as if the answer is clear.  "A pretty man falls out of the sky and you think I'm just going to let him die?"  A smirk curls at the edges of her lips, her eyes twinkling.  "I don't think so."

 

John gapes at her.  Is she... _flirting_  with him?

 

"Is that a problem?"

 

Realizing he must have spoken aloud, John flushes and amends, "No!   _Gods no_."  Look at her.  She's sodding gorgeous.

 

A smile breaks across her face, genuine and delighted, as if he has surprised her.  "Thank you, sweetie."  He groans inwardly.  It seems he can't keep any of his words to himself.

 

Pushing past embarrassment, John asks, "So what about my ship?"

 

"Well the technology your people have must be truly amazing.  Any other crash landing like that would have destroyed a ship on impact, but somehow yours is still in one piece."

 

John immediately sits up at the information, only for the woman to push him back down with a disapproving frown.  Again.  

 

"Look, I appreciate what you've done for me but I have to get back home and-"

 

Her finger presses against his lips, silencing him.  "Hush.  You're not going anywhere just yet.  Your ship is a day's travel at the least.  We'll leave in the morning."

 

His savior stands and moves to extinguish the oil lamps, and John realizes the conversation is over.  His eyes feel heavy, and he grudgingly admits that sleeps sounds nice, despite the apparent day long slumber he had on their journey from his spacecraft to this tiny cottage.

 

"Good night, Prince," the woman bids as she exits into an adjacent room, and John's reply is lost in a mumble as he finds himself already falling into sleep.

 

XxX

 

Dawn has yet to break, but River finds herself unable to sleep regardless.  In the other room, just feet away from her, lies John Smith.  Gallifreyan King-to-be.  Her archenemy.

 

River stands by the window in her small bedroom, staring out at the still sleeping land of Orenda in the pre-morning hush.  The stone floor of her tiny cottage chills her bare feet, but the discomfort goes unnoticed as she finds herself lost in thought.  Moments ago she sent a message to Madame Kovarian- her guardian and mentor for the better part of her life- informing her of the recent developments.  With Madame on the other side of the planet, River doesn't expect a reply for a couple of months at least, but she already has an inkling as to what it will say.

 

The sudden arrival of John Smith was unexpected, that is sure, and her hearts beat wildly in her chest just thinking of the man resting in the other room.  River knew him before, in what seems a different life.  Her memories of that time are gone, and she relies instead on the stories told to her by Madame Kovarian.  Awful, horrible stories, that no doubt must be true if she had chosen to mentally block off the first seven years of her life.  Try as she might, the first hard memory she has is of Madame taking her hand and leading her to her new, safer home.  Everything before that is lost.

 

Her life on Orenda has been far from simple, spent mostly in isolation, filled with training that wears her to the bone, and undergoing treatments that become so painful she can see the stars.

 

 _'No crying, pet,'_ Madame would scold as River sat bound in a chair, tears in her young eyes while a man with sickly green skin injected Ora into her veins.  ' _This is your purpose_.'

 

Ora is the lifeforce of the planet, running through trees and deep within the earth.  It is the power behind Orendan nature, birthing mountains over the course of years and setting fires that demolish forests and villages in a blink of an eye.  And now it lives under her skin, wrapping around her bones and humming through her veins.

 

 _'You have to want it_ ,' Madame hissed at her when she was fourteen.

 

 _'But I don't want it_ ,' River replied, tears strangling her voice that she dared not let stream down her face, knowing a punishment would not be far behind.  A small blue bird sat cupped complacently in her palms, its tiny heart beating rapidly beneath its feathers.  River had lured it to her with her Ora, soothing it the same way, and Madame Kovarian had ordered her to kill it with her Ora alone.

 

 _'You have to feel its life, child.  Then take it._ '

 

River could feel it, could feel the life force running through the tiny bird, but she didn't want to take it.  Trembling, she shook her head violently, blatantly refusing her guardian's demand.  It was a part of her training, a part of her purpose, but she hadn't cared.

 

Madame had grabbed her face, sharp nails digging into River's cheeks as she seethed,  _'How can you be expected to kill the heir if you can't dispose of one insignificant bird?'_ Eyes seeing red and face hard, Madame had snatched the bird from River's hands, and in one swift motion, twisted its wing until it was broken.

 

When the bird was placed back in her palms, chirping frantically but unable to fly away from its captors, River could hold the tears back no longer.  Without working wings, the small blue bird had been stripped of its purpose in life.  It was broken and in pain.  Closing her eyes against a sob, River had felt out the life filling up the small being, reached out to it with her Ora, and then snatched it away.  A small ripple disturbed the air, and the bird fell dead.

 

River had dropped to her knees, the act sapping her energy.

 

' _A human life will take much more out of you,'_  sneered Madame Kovarian, standing over River and stewing in anger and disappointment.   _'It would instantly kill most anyone, but your nasty Gallifreyan blood just might keep you alive.  If you're lucky.'_

 

That day River had taken her deserved punishment, but from then on she never blinked twice when the situation presented itself repeatedly in her training.

 

Then, River hadn't understood why she had to kill the bluebird, but now, as she stares out the window and feels nothing as early morning birds flit excitedly in the tree just yards away, she understands.  River's purpose was never to care about small birds or keep things safe and from harm.  Her one mission is to murder the heir of Gallifrey.  To aid in the fall of the current royal family and help her home planet begin anew. 

 

The bluebird taught her that her purpose left no room for attachment.  With that lesson alone, her will to love had been shattered.

 

River hears a shuffling from the adjacent room and brings herself fully into the present.  Her new bluebird seems just as naive as her first one, content in her care and completely unaware to her mission.  The only reason she hasn't killed him yet is because he showed up as quite the surprise.  Madame will expect her to be patient, and River is sure her guardian will want to meet the king-no-longer-to-be before River pulls the very breath from his lungs.  After all, what is revenge without a little gloating?

 

A ghost of a smile passes River's lips as she turns from her window.  After a lifetime of training, her purpose is finally going to be fulfilled.

 

 

 


	2. something so magic about you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River attempts to keep the bite from her voice, but he is bent on trying her patience. When it comes time to do away with him, she thinks she will have no problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to update a little later in the week but i'M WEAK, so here's chapter two (:
> 
> Chapter title from "From Eden" by Hozier

 

 

"You can't wear that."

 

Startled, John looks up from lacing his boots as his savior exits her room.  She walks past him as if she hadn't spoken at all, her boots clicking against the stone floor and John following her movement while trying his best not to admire her figure in those extremely tight trousers.  It doesn't help when she pauses to tuck her white, tunic-like blouse into the waistband, John's eyes drifting completely without his permission.

 

With a frown, the woman turns and pins him with her gaze, John immediately snapping his eyes to her face and feeling a flush of embarrassment creep across his cheeks. 

 

"Did you hear me?"

 

Berating himself for letting his eyes wander, and too preoccupied with hoping she didn't catch him, he realizes he has no recollection of her earlier words.  "Sorry?"

 

The woman eyes him as if he's dense, gesturing to his form as she slowly repeats, "You can't wear that."

 

"Can't wear what?"

 

"Your jacket."

 

John frowns, glancing down at himself.  "What's wrong with it?"

 

She snorts.  "Well for starters, it's _tweed_."

 

"Oi!  Tweed is cool."

 

The woman raises a brow, amusement shining in her eyes.  "Just like that atrocious bow tie?"

 

Hand flying protectively to his bow tie, John glares and sniffs, "I'll have you know bow ties are _extremely_ cool."

 

A disbelieving smile crosses her lips and she shrugs.  "Whatever you say, sweetie.  But despite tweed being a horrid choice of dress, you can't wear it because it bears your family crest."

 

"But it's cold out."

 

"Well you can either be cold and stay safe, or you can be stubborn, wear your ridiculous jacket, and possibly get murdered."

 

John blanches and grudgingly shrugs out of his tweed.  "You really think it'd get me killed?"

 

His savior lifts a shoulder, turning from him and snatching her cloak from its rack.  "Most Orendans couldn't care less about Gallifrey, they just want to keep living in peace and to continue to govern themselves."  Looking back at him, she snaps her cloak at her neck and continues, "But there are a small number who would give anything to see your planet burn, so I'd be careful if I were you."

 

Uneasiness settles in the pit of his stomach, and John musters a weak smile.  "Fortunate that you were the one to find me, then."

 

A strange look passes in her eyes before she nods.  "Fortunate indeed."

 

John stands, and the woman before him gapes and asks incredulously, " _Braces?_ "

 

While he might normally be miffed at someone degrading all of his clothing choices, he finds himself grinning at her as he plucks at one of the red braces slung over his shoulders.  "Problem, dear?"

 

Glaring, the woman snaps, "I'm not your 'dear.'"

 

"Yes, dear."

 

"I hate you."

 

John's grin widens.  "Nah."

 

XxX

 

River pulls the creaky wooden door of her cottage closed after she and John step out, immediately pushing her small pack into his arms.  John shoulders it without complaint, frowning at her door.

 

"What?"

 

"Does it not lock?  The door, I mean?"

 

"Of course not."

 

His frown deepens.  "That can't be safe."

 

"I live days from the nearest village.  It's perfectly safe."

 

"But what about travelers?"

 

River frowns.  "I assure you, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

 

The tips of his ears turn red as he stutters out, "I-I didn't mean to imply you couldn't, I just...I don't know, sorry."

 

Snorting, because honestly, the man is ridiculous, River turns from him and begins down the narrow gravel path that will eventually meet up with a road of orange dirt.  After a few moments, when she doesn't hear John's steps behind her, she turns with a sigh.  The man stands just where she left him, looking around with another small frown.

 

"What now?"  River attempts to keep the bite from her voice, but he is bent on trying her patience.  When it comes time to do away with him, she thinks she will have no problem.

 

Taking a tentative step forward, John says, "I just didn't realize we'd be _walking_."

 

She smirks.  "Not used to walking long distances, Prince?"

 

He glares, taking enough steps to catch up with her.  "Don't call me that."

 

Brows raising, she continues forward with him by her side.  "Struck a nerve, did I?"

 

Eyes kept adamantly in front of him, John mumbles, "Maybe."

 

River wisely drops the subject, but files the information away to think on later.  For a few minutes they walk in silence, leaving only the sounds of crunching rocks beneath their boots, birds twittering somewhere in the distance, and the leaves of trees rustling in the light, cool breeze of late autumn.

 

Then, John speaks again. "But you have a horse."

 

River frowns.  "No I don't."

 

"You do!  That's how you got me here- a horse and that cart."

 

"Oh," she replies, shaking her head and waving him off.  "That horse wasn't mine.  Cart didn't belong to me either."

 

Looking surprised, John asks, "You had help from someone else?"

 

"No."

 

His brow furrows in confusion, River watching him pointedly until he gasps.  "You stole it!"

 

"I hope you're not expecting a prize- that took you way too long to figure out."

 

"You're a thief!"

 

River halts, suppressing her amusement and making a show of turning back to her cottage as she muses, "Well if it's that much of a problem, I'll just leave you to it, then."

 

"No!"  John grabs her hand, pulling her back to him and shocking her to the point that she can only stare at him as he pleads, "I'm sorry.  Don't leave- I didn't mean it.  I was just surprised."

 

River pulls her hand from his grasp as if his touch burns, glaring at him and trying to will her hearts into not beating quite so fast.  "I wasn't really going to leave you, you idiot."

 

John grins then, a smug smile she immediately wants to smack right off his face.  "Growing on you already, am I?"

 

"You're pushing it," she grumbles, restarting her pace and leaving him to catch up.  River can practically feel the wide smile plastered across his face, causing her to narrow her eyes at the path before her. 

 

No, she definitely won't have a problem getting rid of him.

 

XxX

 

The sun begins to set, the color of the sky fading from its brilliant blue and turning into bright pinks, fire oranges, and deep purples.  It's distracting, so unlike a sunset he has ever seen on Gallifrey that John finds himself paying not a bit of attention to the road before him.  Consequently, when his savior and guide comes to an abrupt halt, he ends up colliding right into the back of her.

 

The woman whirls, fixing him with a glare that for whatever reason causes him to grin as he holds up his hands.  "Sorry, sorry.  I was distracted."

 

"By what?"  She huffs, straightening her cloak.

 

The last few hours of their journey have been traveled mostly in silence.  It put her at ease somehow, John could tell, but he has to admit that he's grateful to find something to discuss.  Not because the silence makes him uncomfortable, but because his every word seems to agitate her just a bit more.  He loves it, loves the fire in her eyes, the bite in her words, the little frown that pulls at her pretty mouth.  In Gallifrey, most everyone treats him with disinterested deference- just enough respect to be polite, but not enough to make him feel any sort of validation.  Some are friendly because they have to be, others blatantly ignore him even if his father is standing just beside him, but _never_  has anyone cared enough to directly speak their mind.  Until now.

 

John is unable to help the grin that pushes at his cheeks at her irritated question.  It's refreshing.  Gesturing to the sky above them, he answers, "The sunset."

 

Her eyes flit heavenward before she asks, sarcasm heavy, "Gallifrey doesn't have sunsets, then?"

 

"Of course," John replies, smile softening and unable to stop himself from leaning in and giving a light tap to her nose.  More infatuated than he cares to admit, he thinks that the woman in front of him is easily just as stunning as the sky above, prompting him to continue, "But none are quite so beautiful."

 

Her eyes go wide at the touch, pure surprise taking over her face.  Then, her expression morphs into a scowl as she orders, "No flirting."

 

Re-shouldering the weight of the pack, John eyes her with amusement.  "So only you get to flirt with me, then?"

 

She glares.  "That was before I realized how irritating you were going to be."

 

John presses a hand to his chest.  "Harsh."

 

The woman rolls her eyes, and it's then that he realizes he has no idea why they stopped.  To his right, John spies a field with a long scorch mark running through it.  Following the burned trail with his eyes, his hearts skip when at the end of it he sees the _Regeneration_.  Any hopes of immediately returning home are dashed as he runs up to it, the spacecraft having definitely seen better days.  One engine is completely blown out, black soot completely covers that same side, and as he presses his face to a window, he confirms that the fire spread inside the ship as well.

 

John's mood is instantly sobered as he takes a step back, fully recognizing for the first time that he almost died.  His savior stands next to him, her golden curls ruffled by the breeze as she gazes at the spacecraft.  Eyes wide, John stares at her with a lump in his throat.  This woman saved him, pulled him from a burning ship and stole a horse and cart to get him somewhere safe as his body healed itself.

 

Feeling his eyes on her, his savior glances at him, frowning as she asks, "What?"

 

Unable to find words, John steps forward and gathers her in a hug, his face buried into the curls by her neck.  The woman stiffens, her arms hovering about him in surprise.

 

"Thank you.  For saving me."

 

She softens at his words, tension leaving her frame as she hesitantly wraps her arms around him, her palms pressing against his back as she whispers, "You're welcome."

 

And then she's pulling away, looking pale and shaken even as she musters a glare and berates, "But don't expect me to be there the next time you find yourself in trouble.  You'll be on your own, then."

 

"And until then?"

 

His savior presses her lips together, turning her attention back toward the _Regeneration_.  "I guess I'm stuck with you.  At least until we can get you home."

 

John smiles at the woman resolutely ignoring his gaze, thinking he would want nothing more.

 

XxX

 

John bursts into the clearing, arms full of sticks and small branches, seeming harried as he glances frantically over his shoulder.  There are leaves stuck in his hair, dirt smudged across his face, and it's all River can do to keep her face straight and voice free of amusement as she comments, "I see you finally found something to burn."

 

Night has fallen, depriving them of the guiding light needed to continue their journey and forcing them to rest for the evening.  They are now in a clearing River has used many times during her travels, surrounded by forest and just far enough from the walking path that any wandering passerby would never spot them.

 

"There were noises," John says as he continues to stare into the dark trees behind him.

 

River waves a hand.  "Probably just a bear."  She frowns.  "Though they might be in hibernation by now."

 

"A what?"  His voice is barely more than a squeak, his eyes wide and startled as he focuses on her.

 

"A bear.  You know- big, furry, teeth that could rip through you in an instant."

 

Her amusement begins to seep through her voice, and John drops the branches, regarding her warily.  "You're having me on."

 

"Afraid not."

 

Looking back over his shoulder, he gives another worried glance at the forest and pushes his fingers anxiously through his hair.  "Gallifrey doesn't have bears..."

 

"Sit," she demands, tugging at the leg of his trousers.  "I promise I won't let the mean bear eat you."

 

John settles himself on the ground beside her, watching her with disbelief.  "And how would you save me?  Are you a bear wrangler?"

 

River smiles.  "Something like that.  Now make yourself useful and get a fire going, we'll want the warmth when the temperature drops."

 

Digging through her pack, River pulls out a cloth that has bread, cheese, and dried meat carefully wrapped inside.  With a glance, she finds John staring uselessly at his haphazard formation of branches, as if he can will them into flame with a look alone.

 

"Problem?"

 

John flushes, embarrassed as he admits, "I...erm...don't exactly know how to start a fire."

 

Choosing not to ridicule him for once, River waves her hand at the branches, calling upon her Ora and setting fire to the small pile.

 

John yelps and scrambles back, gaping at her in surprise.  Fear flashes briefly in his gaze, instantly hardening River's heart and setting her on edge.  Resolutely, she tears her eyes from him and refocuses on the cloth of food sat in her lap.  Too often has she run people off with her abilities, or worse, provoked attack.  It doesn't matter, she reminds herself forcefully.  If he chooses to do either then she can take his life on the spot.  She doubts Madame would be too upset.

 

"What was- how did...how did you _do_  that?"

 

"Ora."

 

"Huh?"

 

"Ora," River snaps again.  "It's the life force of this planet, and I have it in my blood.  It's like...it's like-"

 

"Magic," finishes John, watching her with awe.

 

River frowns, wondering at the acceptance in his eyes that had so easily replaced the fear.

 

He grins.  "Gallifrey doesn't have bears _or_ witches."

 

"Orenda doesn't have witches either."

 

"But you're-"

 

" _Not_  a witch," River insists hotly.

 

"But what about everyone else?"

 

"What about them?"

 

"Do they have this Ora thing?"

 

River shakes her head, pushing down the resentment as she grips the cloth of food and forces out, "I'm different."

 

John's grin widens, his face lighting up.  "You're special."

 

The man says it like it's a blessing and not a curse, and _oh_ , if only he knew.  Because she is a curse- one woven specifically for him.

 

Despite his ignorance, River finds herself softening just a little at the way he looks at her.  Like he has never seen something quite so amazing instead of shying away from her in fear at her difference.  Refusing to look him in the eye, she uncurls her fingers from the cloth and lays the food out for them to share.

 

XxX

 

John has been silent for most of their day-long journey, something that River would normally have no complaints about.  Silence usually meant she was alone- no Madame, no guards, and no bumbling fool who is somehow next in line to be the Gallifreyan King.  But now it unnerves her.  He walks without trying to make conversation not because he doesn't wish to, but because he is unable to find the words.

 

"You're driving me mad," River finally voices as the sun begins to set, resting just behind the forest now at their backs, but still providing them with enough light to carry on.  With a glance at the long shadows cast across their path, she thinks they should reach her cottage just as night begins to take its cover.

 

John gapes at her.  "I've not even done anything this time!"

 

"You're stewing."

 

"How could you tell?"

 

"It's audible."

 

The man huffs, carding his fingers through his thick hair and frowning at the path before them.  "It's just...you saved me.  You gave me a safe place to stay, and you went through the trouble of taking me to my ship...and I still haven't the faintest idea what your name is."

 

River wants to laugh- what does her name matter?  But she doesn't, struck by the guilt ridden across his face as he spares her a wary glance.  Part of her is almost touched that he would care at all, but then she forces herself to remember who he is.  Gallifreyan royalty.  The whole lot of them are rotten.  Selfish, destructive, and his father wiped out half the population of Orenda just to make a show of his absolute power.  The current line of royalty will end with the man walking beside her, and Madame will have her chance to establish a new reign.  The people of Gallifrey will be free of tyranny, relations with Orenda will be restored, and life will prosper and thrive unlike ever before.  For the first time in her life there will be hope, and no idiot with puppy eyes and a kind smile is going to change that, whether he cares about her name or not.  

 

"River Song," she answers, idly wondering if he would recognize her if she went by her birth name. 

 

Melody Pond.  The little Gallifreyan girl who ran around the palace with the king-to-be when he was still just a boy.  Naive, sheltered, blissfully unaware of the evil that existed under the very same roof.  She doesn't remember that life, doesn't care to, and she doubts that John would care even if he knew.  If he had cared, if _anyone_  had cared, her new home wouldn't be Orenda.  Ora would not run through her veins.  Her purpose wouldn't begin and end with _him_.  Everything would be different.

 

"River Song?"  A smile grows on John's face.  "Very fairytale.  I like it."

 

Her mouth twists into a frown.  "My life is nothing like a fairytale, Prince."

 

John grins.  "What?  A king-to-be falling out of the sky to be rescued by a lovely witch not good enough for you?"

 

"I am _not_  a witch," River bites.  Gods he is infuriating.

 

"And _I_ ," he leans into her space, surprising her again as he lightly taps his finger to the end of her nose, warmth in his eyes, "am no prince."

 

Her hearts pound within her chest at his closeness, and somehow she manages to produce a scowl.  "What exactly do you call a son of royalty, then?"

 

"I'm only half royalty, you know."

 

River quirks a brow, interested, and watches as he avoids her gaze and says, "Illegitimate."

 

"And does being half royalty make you only half king-to-be?"

 

John frowns.  "No."

 

"Then you're still a prince, I'm afraid."

 

Something like resentment passes in his eyes, and not for the first time River wonders why exactly it is there.

 

"And what about you?  A woman who can call flames with a wave of her hand and put men into a slumber with a simple touch?  Does that not make you a witch?"

 

His tone is nothing more than defensive, without the fear or aggression that is normally present when she is accused of being the witch that she is.  Still, River glares at the ground as they walk, noting the fine layer of orange dust that has covered her boots in their journey.

 

"It's not like I chose it," she finally responds, wondering why she even feels the need to defend herself.

 

John smiles, though it lacks his usual warmth and humor.  "Just as I didn't choose the family I was born into."

 

River frowns to herself.  He may not have chosen to be the son of royalty, but he still stands by the King no matter the atrocities he commits, the blood that stains his hands.  He still follows in the King's footsteps, still seeks to one day wear that golden crown.  It doesn't matter that he didn't choose this life, River forces herself to believe- he's still living it.

 

They finally reach the gravel path, her cottage now barely out of sight.  Tonight she will sleep in her bed, the Gallifreyan king-to-be resting on her sofa once more.  In the morning, they will discuss his options and build a new plan, not that any of it truly matters. 

 

_You should kill him now_ , the voice in her mind whispers traitorously.  River glances at the man walking beside her, quickly looking away when he meets her gaze with a smile. 

 

Maybe she should, but not yet. 

 

XxX

 

"Wake up."

 

John grumbles at the voice, turning over on the small sofa and hitching the thin blanket over his face as he keeps his eyes firmly shut.  It's too bloody early to be awake.

 

"My gods, you are a _child_ ," River huffs, snatching his blanket away and tossing it aside.

 

John groans and rolls over, peeking open an eye to find his savior standing over him with her eyes narrowed and hands on her hips. 

 

She is lovely.

 

Biting back a mischievous smile, he reaches out and grabs her hand, pulling her until she topples onto the sofa with a surprised yelp.  River is warm against him, and John hums in contentment as he wraps his arms around her and buries his face into the curls by her neck.  It's a bit intimate, and he figures he only has about two more seconds before she overcomes her shock and tries to escape.

 

For a brief moment, she relaxes against him, and then suddenly she is shoving at him as she scrambles to stand up.  "What the _hell_ , John?!"

 

Her voice has escalated an octave, and a pretty flush steals across her cheeks that utterly delights him.  John grins up at her.  "You took my blanket, what did you expect?"

 

River huffs, avoiding his gaze and straightening her clothes, completely flustered.  Suddenly, he decides that he would quite like to kiss her.  A lump forms in his throat as he thinks she would likely sink a dagger in his gut if he ever tried.

 

"Just get up, will you?  The sooner we leave, the sooner you can get home."

 

"Leave?"

 

"Yes, _leave_ ," River calls back as she moves into her tiny kitchen.

 

Scrubbing a hand over his face, John gives in and follows.  "No chance of me living on your sofa forever, then?"

 

"Over my dead body," River mumbles as she rummages around in a pack sitting on her kitchen table.

 

He grins, plopping into a chair.  

 

His feet are sore from the past couple of days and he can't exactly say he's looking forward to more walking.  Lifting his foot from the stone floor and resting it over his opposite leg, John digs his thumbs into the arch, seeking some relief. 

 

"You know, you could've clued me in that my ship was beyond repair _before_  we took a two-day long journey."

 

She scoffs.  "You wouldn't have believed me, or at the very least you would have insisted to see it regardless."

 

John sighs, knowing she's right.  Feeling suddenly guilty, he watches her and says, "Thank you."

 

Halting her digging, River glances up, lips parted in surprise.  "I'm sorry?"

 

Confused, John repeats, "Thank you?"

 

"Why?"

 

"Why what?"

 

"Why are you thanking me?"

 

He frowns.  "You've gone further out of your way to help me than I think anyone else would have.  I owe you."

 

A small smile flits across her lips.  "The prince of Gallifrey owes me?  Whatever shall I ask for?"

 

"Anything your heart desires," John answers honestly, his hearts leaping ridiculously at the thought of what _he_  would like her to request.  Only in his dreams, he figures.

 

River narrows her eyes and turns her attention once again to her pack.  "You're flirting again."

 

"Sorry."

 

"Are you really?"

 

"No."

 

An amused smile quirks at her lips as she clasps her bag shut and chooses not to respond.  Instead, River pushes the pack over to him and states, "I think we have everything we need to at least get to the nearest town.  Then we can restock."

 

Grabbing the strap and lifting it a little to test the weight, John asks, "So what's the plan?  Where are we going?"

 

"Karah."

 

Instantly, his blood runs cold.  "Karah?  Why?"

 

"You've heard of it, then?"

 

"Of course.  Kovarian's base- where she publicly executed the thousands who opposed her, where she gathered her army and made her plans to remove my father as the Gallifreyan King."  River's eyes are sharp on him as he continues, "When she pushed too far, Karah was the place my father attacked in retaliation."

 

"Obliterated, more like.  No one survived the attack on Karah."

 

Defensive, John juts out his chin and states, "He had no other choice.  The only way to stop her was to cut off her resources and eliminate her support."

 

"So murdering half the population of an entire planet was the answer?"

 

"Maybe not a good answer, but it was the only one.  Anyone who resided there was either dead by Kovarian's orders of execution or she had them Slated."

 

River frowns.  "Slated?"

 

John pauses, returning her expression.  "You don't know?"

 

The woman watches him strangely, her lips pursed before she offers a simple, "I was small during the War, my memories aren't the best."

 

"Neither are mine, but everyone on Gallifrey _knows_."

 

"It doesn't matter," River decides suddenly, waving her hand and halting anything else he has to say about it.  "What matters now is that before the War, Karah was the only home to Gallifreyan technology.  When the planet was colonized, the plan was to slowly implement technology- city by city.  With Karah being home to so much of our population, it was naturally the first."

 

"And the only?"  John assumes.

 

River nods.  "It took much longer for Karah to adjust to the technology than expected.  By the time it was stable and the Gallifreyan officials could move on to the next city, the War had begun."

 

"And you think we can find a working spacecraft in an abandoned, ruined city?"

 

"Scavengers raided what was left of the city after the War, so finding anything in perfect condition is unlikely.  Not to mention it's been almost thirty years, so even if we happen to find something in one piece, it is improbable that it will work."

 

"But?"

 

" _But_ , if we can find something in good enough condition, I have enough connections that I'm sure we could get it fixed."

 

"That's a lot of 'if's."

 

"Got a better idea, Prince?"

 

John gives her a small smile.  "I could just stay here with you and we wouldn't have to go anywhere."

 

"Is that really what you want?"

 

River regards him without expression, making the question seem simpler than it actually is.  For the first time, John contemplates the idea of not making it back to Gallifrey.  He would never see his father again, and maybe he should be more upset about that than he is, but he would be _free_.  No throne to dread, no Capitol to please, no father to live up to in a place where he never felt he belonged.  He could make his own life.  Right here on Orenda.

 

"I don't know," John answers honestly.  Frankly, both options terrify him.

 

"Karah it is, then."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm impatient, so I imagine I'll post the next chapter sooner rather than later lol
> 
> Thanks for reading <333


	3. dissolving like the setting sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The inn proves to be much warmer than the outdoors, almost too warm, filled with rowdy patrons, smelling of stale alcohol, and a smoky haze lingering in the air. There is a particularly rough-looking group of burly men sat in the back corner, empty pint glasses, playing cards, and a neat pile of coin littering their table. Of course River heads straight for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Queen of Peace" by Florence + the Machine

 

_"Keep up, Pond!"_

 

_She giggles, her tiny hand reaching for the next branch.  The boy scrambles up the tree ahead of her and it's all she can do to keep up.  They're not even supposed to be out here, some sort of fancy dinner is set to start in the palace in just minutes- if it hasn't already.  Her parents are going to be furious, John's father even more so, no doubt, but climbing trees sounded much more fun than the alternative._

_Silver leaves get caught in her curls, and twigs snatch at the fabric of her fine dress.  Not that she cares much, she hates this dress, with its yellow color and ridiculous frills- maybe she'll ruin it enough for her mother to throw it out entirely._

_The higher they climb, the harder it is for her to follow.  John is a whole two and a half years older than her. He's taller, so of course he can reach further.  It's not fair, but at least she knows she can outrun him on the ground.  She may be small, but she's good at the running thing._

_"Come on, Melody!  You can reach it!"  John encourages from his perch on the branch just above her.  He grins down at her, hair flopping into his warm hazel eyes._

 

_She stretches, standing on the tips of her toes and fingers still barely out of reach.  So she jumps, and her hands should have no problem grasping onto the branch, but then she's falling, falling, falling.  Darkness engulfs her, and then her feet are on solid ground and she is running.  A large hand has a vice-like grip on her wrist, practically dragging her along and all she feels is fear.  In the darkness, she can barely make out what looks to be a spacecraft sitting not so far ahead of them.  Its door opens with a hiss, and despite the light spilling from within it she is scared, so scared._

 

_She cries, futilely resisting the grip of the person pulling her along.  She wants her mummy, her daddy.  She wants John.  Where is he?  He's always next to her when she's running.  "John!"  She calls, her small voice strangled with tears.  The light is close enough to blind her now, and then-_

 

River wakes with a gasp, covered in sweat and looking into the same hazel eyes she saw in her dream, John's hand on her arm from shaking her awake.  On instinct, she immediately scrambles away from him, watching him with wide eyes and hearts in her throat.

 

It takes her a moment to remember her surroundings.  They're in another clearing in a different forest than before, on the way to Karah- to Madame Kovarian.  The embers of their self-made fire burn low, telling her it must be quite late at night, or early morning, however one wishes to look at it.

 

John watches her with concern, his hair mussed from sleeping and his breath producing small clouds in the cold.  "Are you okay?"

 

"I'm fine," River bites out a little too harshly, tossing her curls over her shoulder and avoiding eye contact.

 

"What was it about?"

 

"What?"

 

John blinks.  "Your nightmare."

 

Clenching her teeth and feeling oddly vulnerable, she lies, "I don't remember."

 

He fixes her with an overly-solemn stare.  "It was about those bear things, wasn't it?"

 

River laughs before she can suppress it, suddenly feeling lighter.

 

John gapes at her, and she sweeps a curl behind her ear as she asks, "What?"

 

"You laughed."

 

"So?"

 

He smiles, "It was nice to hear."

 

River watches him strangely, thinking of that exact smile on the much younger version of him who was present in her dream.  Or was it some sort of memory?  She's never dreamt of the past she can't remember, and she wonders if being in John's presence has triggered something.

 

The thought sets her on edge, and all she can do is hope that it doesn't happen again. 

 

XxX

 

It is day ten of their journey.  Well, twelve if you include the two days it took to get from the cottage to his ship and back-  _thirteen_  if you include the day he spent entirely unconscious while his savior found him shelter in her home.  Thirteen days.  It's only been  _thirteen days_ , but it feels like a lifetime.

 

Blisters have formed on his feet that make it difficult for him to keep up with the pace that River sets.  The boots he wears were never meant for extended periods of walking, rather only to look nice when he was in the presence of Gallifreyan officials.  Every step is agony, but he doesn't say a word and River doesn't seem to notice.  She only spares him the occasional glance, which more often than not conveys her annoyance at his inability to keep up.

 

Normally, something as minor as a blister would never have a chance to form thanks to his regenerative abilities, but everything has its limit.  It seems that their continuous walking has finally won over his healing energy, the constant irritation at his heels now producing a shooting pain with every step.  The more damage he inflicts on his feet, the longer they will take to heal when he does finally find the time, and at this point it may take a couple of days at best.

 

They are travelling south, John has gathered, and the sun is just moving to the right of them- an hour or two past midday- when the pain finally brings him to a stop.  The pack gives a  _thwump_  as he shrugs it from his shoulders and lets it drop to the ground.  He positions himself on a fallen log, his eyes closing tightly against the pain that seems to grow even though he is now off his feet.

 

"What's wrong?"

 

Opening his eyes, John holds up a hand to shield the sun- it may not be providing much warmth at the moment, but it sure is bright.  River stands before him, her mouth turned down in a concerned frown.

 

"How do you know anything is wrong?"

 

"Because you've been doing that thing again."

 

"What thing?"

 

"That thing where you have something to say but you don't say it so you stay quiet and stew about it and it  _drives me mad_.  And now you've stopped walking- so what's wrong?"

 

Despite the pain, John feels a small grin pull at his mouth- she becomes annoyed when she is concerned for him, and for whatever reason he finds that quite amusing.

 

"My feet are sodding killing me," he admits.

 

River snorts.  "That's all?  Not used to walking, Prince?"

 

"Not like this, no."

 

The woman turns from him, and John finds himself admiring the way the sun makes her hair shine like the finest of all golds.  "Resting won't help much," she calls behind her.  "So it's best if we keep going."

 

When she realizes he hasn't moved, River turns and waves for him to follow.  He doesn't, causing her to sigh and move back to standing in front of him, hands on her hips.  "Are you just being stubborn or is it really that bad?"

 

John huffs out a small laugh.  "I wish it was that I was just being stubborn."

 

"Let me see," she demands, taking him seriously for the first time as she kneels before him and starts to unlace his boots.  River gasps once they are removed, John even surprised to see his socks stained with red where the blisters should be. 

 

"My gods," she whispers, and he tries not to flinch as she peels the socks from his feet.  "The skin is completely raw!  You're  _bleeding_ \- why didn't you say something before?!" 

 

"I was rather hoping we would get there soon."

 

River stares at him in disbelief.  "John, Karah is  _months_  away!"

 

He pales.  "Months?"

 

" _Yes!_   How do you expect to keep walking in such a condition?"

 

"Well it's not like I had any other shoes, you know!"

 

Briefly, she closes her eyes before giving a nod.  "You're right.  I'm sorry.  I don't have anything to clean the wounds, but I can wrap them and they should be fine until we reach Albaj.  I was going to bypass it completely, but you're going to need to rest until your feet are healed."

 

"How far is Albaj?"

 

River bites her lip, glancing quickly at their surroundings before stating, "A couple hours at most.  We'll have to back track a little to get on the right path, but it's not too far out.  Do you think you can make the walk there?"

 

"Do I have any other options?"

 

"You could stay here, and I could go find a horse.  Might take a while, though."

 

"What?  So I can get eaten by a bear while you're gone?"

 

River rolls her eyes, opening the pack to dig out a roll of bandages. 

 

John grins.  "Sorry, dear, you're not getting rid of me that easily."

 

XxX

 

The sun is setting by the time they reach Albaj, and John finds himself being thankful that tonight they will be sleeping in a warm inn rather than on the cold, hard ground.  It's a village unlike any other he has traveled through in Gallifrey.  The main road is flanked on both sides by a series of jointed, wooden buildings, all of different heights and sizes.  Just as with River's cottage, electricity is non-existent, oil lamps burning outside of each building to provide the needed illumination.

 

"Try not to bring attention to yourself," River advises as they pass an old wooden sign proclaiming, " _Welcome to Albaj!"_  in peeling red paint.

 

"I'm guessing these people aren't fond of Gallifrey, then?"

 

Lifting the hood of her dark green cloak to obscure her curls, she gives a small shrug.  "You never know who clings to old grudges.  Better to be on the safe side."

 

John nods, trying not to look too interested in his surroundings.  It seems to be a busy evening for the small village, couples walking arm in arm from one shop to the next, people gathered around tables that sit outside of restaurants despite the chill that lingers in the air, and a group of hard-off musicians set up by an alleyway as they try to make a bit of coin, their music drifting through the air and scoring the scene.

 

"I'm bloody starving," John realizes aloud as he smells freshly made bread coming from a nearby bakery.

 

"We need to get you off your feet before we start to think about food."

 

He grins.  "Worried about me, Song?"

 

With a blank look, River responds, "Only because if your open blisters get infected then I'll have to deal with you for far longer than planned."

 

John snorts.  "You're sweeping me off my feet, dear."

 

Her lips twitch in amusement.  "And I wasn't even trying,  _sweetie_."

 

The inn doesn't turn out to be exactly what he was hoping for. 

 

"Have you been here before?"  John asks warily, standing outside the building under the hanging, creaky sign that reads  _The Pandorica Inn and Tavern_.  The noise is audible from where they stand just outside the doors, and he leans toward the dingy window panes in a failed attempt to get a peek inside.

 

"The Pandorica?"  River asks in clarification, opening the pack he has shouldered and digging around.  "Of course.  Not the classiest clientele around, but they'll do."  She pulls out a small coil of rope with a triumphant noise and re-snaps the pack.  "Now follow my lead and don't ask questions."

 

Standing in front of him now, River winds the rope tightly around his wrists until he is bound, John watching her curiously as she hooks the other end to her belt.  He feels a bit uneasy as to where this is going, but he obliges her by asking no questions.  He really has no other choice.

 

The inn proves to be much warmer than the outdoors, almost too warm, filled with rowdy patrons, smelling of stale alcohol, and a smoky haze lingering in the air.  There is a particularly rough-looking group of burly men sat in the back corner, empty pint glasses, playing cards, and a neat pile of coin littering their table.  Of course River heads straight for them, the rope between them tugging him forward when he lags hesitantly behind.

 

"Hello boys," River announces with a smirk as they approach.

 

One of the men offers her a brief glance before returning to his duty of shuffling the cards.  "We be not interested in what you're selling, lassie."

 

"I'm not here to sell," River states coldly, pulling back the hood of her cloak and allowing her curls to spring free.  The men at the table give a simultaneous flinch, all of them suddenly refusing to make eye contact.  River leans menacingly over the table, her hand covering the cards and halting the man's movements.  "I'm here to play," she finishes, her smile dangerous.

 

The man with the cards meets her gaze with a glare.  "And do you have the coin to play,  _witch_?"

 

River sits primly in the only available chair at the table, the rope yanking John closer.  A hand reaching out to rest on his forearm, her smile warms as she says, "My slave here should be more than enough to match what I need."

 

The man gives John a quick once-over before nodding his acquiescence.  River smiles at John and says, "Sit, darling."

 

It's not a suggestion, but an order, and he finds himself too stunned to argue, immediately positioning himself on the hard, wooden planks of the floor. 

 

"Good boy," she coos, running her fingers affectionately through his hair.  He should feel humiliated, but her nails feel too incredible against his scalp for him to care.

 

"What kind of slave?"  Asks the man sitting to River's right.  Dropping her hand, she leans in to whisper the answer.  John is too far out of earshot to hear, but he doesn't stay in the dark for long as the man exclaims, "A _bedroom_  slave?!"

 

John nearly chokes on air.

 

"Don't say it too loud, the poor dear blushes terribly."

 

And he does blush.  Fiercely and throughout the entire card game.  

 

Luckily for him, River wins with a rather impressive hand and sweeps the table for all they are worth.  With the coin placed safely into a small, draw-string pouch, she and John leave the men behind to sulk and nurse their loss with more alcohol.

 

"What if you had lost?"  John hisses as he is pulled behind her, the rope now rubbing uncomfortably at his wrists.

 

Pulling up her hood, River turns to him with a roll of her eyes.  "Well I didn't lose so calm down.  Honestly."

 

They approach the innkeeper who doubles as the bartender, and John is surprised when the room costs only half of their newly acquired coin.  Untying the rope from his wrists, River drops the copper room key into his palm and orders, "Go on up to the room- I'll find us some food."

 

John follows her demand, knowing arguing would do no good, and rather looking forward to getting some rest.  The staircase is narrow, and the stairs creak noisily under his weight as he ascends.  Their room isn't much- two small beds and a vanity complete with a basin for washing, but he nearly weeps at the sight of a mattress.  Closing the door behind him, John flops face down onto the nearest bed and is asleep within seconds.

 

XxX

 

A beam of light spills into their room at the Pandorica as River shuffles in with arms loaded down with goodies.  John is sprawled across the bed closest to the door, mouth hanging open and snoring so loudly she fears he may breathe in the roof.  Pursing her lips against a smile that threatens to push at her cheeks, River purposefully kicks the door shut with far more force than necessary.

 

John bolts awake at the noise, mumbling blearily, "River?  Is that you?"

 

Freeing her arms by setting everything on the nearby vanity, River reaches over and blindly fumbles with the oil lamp key until it sparks to life, casting their surroundings in a soft glow.

 

"What if it hadn't been?"  She asks, one eyebrow arched as she tries to convince herself that she hadn't been worried about leaving the idiot by himself.

 

"Could've handled myself," he grumbles, shoving his fingers through his tousled hair.  "How long have you been gone?"

 

"About an hour, give or take."

 

"An  _hour_?"

 

"Well I figured I'd let you get a bit of rest, so I had my dinner downstairs.  I brought you up some stew."

 

Eyes moving to the vanity next to him, he immediately reaches for the steaming bowl waiting for him, shoving a spoonful into his mouth and groaning happily at the taste.  "This is sodding delicious," John speaks between bites.

 

Nodding, River points to a loaf of bread wrapped in parchment.  "I got that for you as well."

 

Temporarily setting the bowl aside, John grabs the bread and gasps once he rips open the parchment.  "Bread?!  From that bakery?  I could kiss you!"

 

He bites into it like a man starved, the blush that spreads across her cheeks at his words thankfully going unnoticed.  She most definitely does  _not_  want him to kiss her.  That would be the opposite of good.

 

Turning from John, River rolls her eyes at her own thoughts as she sheds her cloak, throwing it carelessly across the vacant bed.  Two weeks in this man's company and he has her blushing like a ridiculous fool.  What would Madame think?

 

It is true that he is attractive- in a lanky, charming sort of way.  His eyes are kind and his stupid lopsided grin occasionally causes her hearts to flutter.  It's irritating as hell.  And though River knows Madame will want to meet the man before he dies, she thinks it would be far easier to kill him now and be done with it.

 

Going against everything her brain is screaming for her to do, she reaches instead for a jar of healing ointment she bought with their last bit of coin.

 

"What's that?" John mumbles around a mouthful of stew, and honestly, aren't princes supposed to have manners?

 

"Ointment," she speaks, tossing him the glass jar.  "For your feet."

 

"Where'd you get it?"

 

Tossing her curls over her shoulder, River grabs the basin and begins to pump water into it.  "There's an apothecary down the street."

 

"And they were open?"

 

"No."  She grins to herself, thinking of the small, elderly owner who lived just above the store, and the way he trembled at her... _suggestion_  that he open shop.  No harm done, though, and she made sure he was well paid for the trouble.  "I was very persuasive."

 

"I can imagine," John acknowledges, voice heavy with skepticism.

 

River offers only a cheerful smile in return, grabbing a cloth and positioning herself and the basin of water on the floor in front of John's feet.

 

"I can do it myself," he protests as she begins to unlace his boots.

 

She throws him a glare.  "I doubt you have ever had to take care of yourself for a moment in your life.  I know what I'm doing, so let me."

 

After a reluctant moment, John gives in and nods.  River returns to her work, setting his boots and dirty socks aside, and unwrapping the bandages she put him in earlier.  Methodically, she rolls up the cuffs of his trousers, her fingers lightly brushing against the skin of his calves.  When he shudders, River gives him a curious glance, finding John watching her with wide eyes and his stew resting on the vanity once more, his hunger forgotten.

 

"Alright?"

 

"Fine," he rasps.

 

River frowns as she returns her attention to his feet.  The open blisters look painful- raw, bloody, and irritated by dirt and small pieces of gravel that must have found their way into his boots during their travels.  How he managed to walk as far as he did is beyond her.

 

Dipping the cloth into the basin, she drenches the fabric with fresh water and then wrings it out, the splashing water droplets echoing loudly in the silence of their room.  Gently, River begins the slow process of washing his feet.  She tries to be careful, being only as forceful as she needs to be to ensure the dirt is removed and the wounds have been thoroughly cleaned.

 

"Does it hurt?"

 

"Yes."

 

She arches a brow at him.  "I expected you to complain more."

 

John grins.  "I've had worse.  I'm fairly clumsy, you know."

 

River snorts, drying his feet with a second cloth.  Taking the jar from him, she twists open the lid and lightly applies the ointment to the wounds.  There is just enough bandaging left to cover what is needed, and she makes a mental note to acquire more before they leave Albaj.

 

John reaches out and cups the side of her face in his hand, the touch startling River into meeting his gaze.  His fingers gently hook a curl behind her ear, her breath catching in her chest as he leans forward and presses his forehead to hers.  He stills there, fingers now at her neck and eyes closed, and all River can hear is the pounding of her hearts in her ears.

 

He smells of sweat, the forest, and the smoke from the ground level of the inn.  It should be more off-putting than it is, but River finds that it makes her want to haul him all the closer.  Her brain screams at her to jerk out of his touch, but she cannot seem to back away, her traitorous hand moving up so that her fingers close around his wrist.

 

John inhales, his breath a shudder as he whispers, "Thank you," just a puff of warm air against her cheek.

 

River nods, her words stolen by his actions.  Then he is gone, sitting back and reaching for his stew once more.  Shaken, she stands with the water basin and goes about cleaning up the small mess as an excuse to avoid looking at him.

 

A minute passes with only the noises of her clamoring around, then John asks, "Is that why you don't like being called a witch?"

 

Folding the now wet, dirty cloth, River frowns at him.  "What?"

 

"That man- downstairs.  He called you a witch...but like it was something dirty."

 

She gives a shrug, her lips pursed.  "It comes from fear- it's fine."

 

His brow rises.  "Is everyone scared of you, then?"

 

"Those who know who I am, yes."

 

John gives a small, confused frown, chewing on a piece of bread in thought before stating, "I'm not afraid of you."

 

Her hearts clench in her chest and she fixes him with a solemn stare.  "You would be if you knew what was good for you, Prince."

 

He gives her that damnable grin.  "Guess I'm an idiot, then."

 

River's mouth curls into a smile.  "Finally.  Something we can agree upon."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!!


	4. it's just a feeling and no one knows yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As John is re-shouldering the pack, a commotion begins behind him, just down the street. There is shrieking and the Albajians quickly scramble out of the middle of the road. The sea of people part as if by some unseen force, concerned with only removing themselves from the path despite the shouts of 'Stop her!'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "The Call" by Regina Spektor

  
  


The morning brings an Albaj with even more hustle and bustle than he had witnessed the evening before.  It's a market day, John learns, the shops setting up tables in the streets to display their merchandise at a lower price than normal.  It seems difficult for the horses and carts to navigate, but no one seems to mind, the small village filled with laughter, joy, and playful competition as shop owners attempt to dominate their customers' attention.

 

"You, sir!  You look like a man in need of new boots!"

 

John gives a small smile and shake of his head, and continues walking.  A pair of new boots had been sitting at the foot of his bed just this morning, River having fetched them sometime before he woke.  He's fairly sure they ran out of coin the evening before, but he has learned not to ask the woman questions to which he is unsure if he wants the true answer.  They fit him perfectly, and are 'excellent for long distance travelling,' River had informed him with a smug smile.  His feet miraculously healed overnight, something he attributes to both his regenerative abilities as well as the ointment River had scared out of that poor medicine man.  John grins at the thought, ashamed to admit to himself that he would have loved to see the look on the man's face.  It turns out that his savior is quite the force to be reckoned with.

 

At the thought of her, John turns with a small frown, stretching to look over the crowd for those wild curls.  With his feet healed, they decided to leave Albaj today and continue with their journey to Karah, but River had disappeared from his side without a word the moment they stepped outside of the inn.  She will find him when she's ready, he figures.

 

A man stands on a table juggling orange fruit, pyramids of a variety of fresh fruits piled on either side of him.  John stops for a moment to watch, laughing delightedly when the man drops an orange right onto his head, exclaiming sheepishly to the crowd that he would sell that one at a discount.

 

"Ah, good sir!"  Calls the shop owner John passes by next.  "You must have a lovely lady at home, hmm?"

 

Jewelry is the man's product, he realizes, looking at the fine display of silver chains and gems resting on the table.  "Every woman deserves to be spoiled now and then, eh?"  The man pushes, holding a necklace out for display.

 

They are pearls, small, dainty, dark green in color, and completed with a golden clasp.  Unbidden, the image of his wild-haired temptress springs to mind, these pearls nestled against the hollow of her rather lovely throat.  They could be a gift of thanks, John reasons, shoving his hand into his pocket. 

 

His hearts fall- no coin.  Of course. 

 

Idiot.

 

With a disappointed shrug at the shop owner, John exposes his empty pockets.  The man hums in understanding, gives John a once over, then gestures at John's wrists.  "Trade?"

 

Confused, John glances down and- oh.  His cuff links.  Pure Gallifreyan gold and sure to be worth far more than that string of pearls.  But when has he ever cared for cuff links, expensive or not?  Grinning, John removes them from his shirt and places them in the shop owner's palm, giddy when the pearls are draped along his outstretched fingers in return.

 

Too busy admiring the necklace and imagining River's reaction, John is completely unaware of the rather ridiculous smile pushing at his cheeks.  He won't give them to her just yet, he decides, slipping the pack off his shoulders.  Unclasping it, he carefully drops the necklace into one of the small, inside pouches of the bag, hoping they will go unnoticed until the time is right.

 

As John is re-shouldering the pack, a commotion begins behind him, just down the street.  There is shrieking and the Albajians quickly scramble out of the middle of the road.  The sea of people part as if by some unseen force, concerned with only removing themselves from the path despite the shouts of ' _Stop her!'_

 

Then he sees it- a horse pounding the road heedless of anyone in his way, the cart tethered behind him jostling dangerously from the speed.  Atop the beast is River, hands gripping the reigns as she spurs the horse onward, her curls flying wildly behind her and a wicked grin on her face.  Behind her are Albajian guards, sprinting to stop her but completely hopeless without horses of their own.  John laughs at the sight- the woman is completely mad.

 

"Come on, sweetie!"  Calls River once she sees him.  He must have been easy to spot- the only idiot  _not_  running for safety.

 

Realizing she has no intention of slowing down, John leaps into a run.  When she passes him, he reaches out and grabs the side of the cart, stumbling along side until he can haul himself up.  Hearts pounding, he falls gracelessly into the cart, laughing heartily at the sight behind them- over turned tables from the people rushing to get out of the way, a cloud of orange dust settling over everything in sight, and angry guards who have given up running, some bent over, exhausted, and others using their last bit of energy to shout angry profanities.

 

John lays down with a flop, watching the sky pass overhead as he catches his breath.  A smile covers his face- he hasn't felt this kind of rush in ages.  When he was younger- much younger- he and Melody would always find themselves in this sort of trouble, always having to make a run for it even though the trouble was sure to catch up with them eventually.  His smile turns sad as he looks up at the clouds.  She's gone now- just gone, and he wonders if she's up there somewhere, wherever  _there_  is, watching over him.  For the first time in a long time, John thinks she would be smiling.

 

XxX

 

 

Exhilaration from the chase wears off quickly, but River pushes the horse beneath her until they are a good half hour outside of Albaj.  She is fairly sure they were given up on before they even got completely out of the village, but underestimating their hunters was not something she was willing to do.  The Albajian guards had been ill-equipped and were woefully unprepared for a woman to steal a horse and cart right from under their noses.  It had been almost comical, and River was pleased to find that John had complied to her scheme without complaint.

 

Hopping off the horse, River gives it a light smack on the bum for it to continue at a trot.  The beast is impressive, large, muscular, and with a silky black coat that would turn women with even the finest of hair green with envy.  She knows he must be exhausted from the run, and she gives the horse another soft pat in reassurance.  They'll stop to rest soon.

 

 

Effortlessly, River swings herself into the cart, grinning as John asks, "Done running from the law, now?"

 

"Never," she replies, smile widening.  "Besides, you're my accomplice now."

 

John mocks an outraged gasp.  "Accomplice?!  All of this was against my will, Song!"

 

River scoffs.  "You jumped right in-  _laughing_ , if I recall correctly."

 

"Well if we get caught I'm telling them you kidnapped me.  And who do you think they'll believe, Gallifreyan royalty or the witch?"

 

A smile twitches at her lips at his theatrics.  "Depends who you're talking to, Prince- remember where you are.  Sounds like we'd both be in trouble so I'd try my best not to get caught if I were you."

 

"Have you ever been caught?"

 

River laughs.  "Caught?  Oh no.  Those who recognize me know better than to try.  Those Albajian guards either had no clue, or were incredibly brave."  She grins.  "I'm betting on the former."

 

John snorts.  "So what did you do to create such a reputation?"

 

The smile slips from her face, and her throat tightens against the words threatening to spill out.  In her head, an alarm rings out, warning her that the man is unwittingly attempting to climb the walls she has built to keep him out.  Even so, River finds herself eager to share the story, almost desperate to know his reaction.  Perhaps John will finally fear her as he should.

 

"I lived on the outskirts of a small village, and that year had brought a drought unlike any Orenda had ever seen.  The villagers were suffering- children were starving."  

 

River pauses, fists clenching in her cloak at the memory.  "I used my Ora- channeled the water in the earth to the surface so that the crops could thrive.  I was young, then- naive and careless.  I didn't understand that when others saw what I was capable of that they would retaliate out of fear."

 

Her hearts ache as she remembers pulling her hands from the wet ground and turning to the villagers with a proud smile.  She had been fifteen, and it had taken months for River to convince Madame that she would thrive better in a small community rather than in complete isolation.  The villagers thought she was without a home and took her in without question, gave her a roof over her head and taught her their ways.  She had only been there a few months before the incident, but she remembers that the frightened, angry looks the villagers gave her felt like daggers to her hearts.  It turned out she didn't belong there after all.

 

In her silence, John prompts, "So what did they do?"

 

River huffs out a laugh that falls flat, waving her hand as if it doesn't matter.  "What any Orendan would do to a witch."

 

She remembers her hands were still covered in damp soil, the hem of her handwoven dress wet and muddied as she gestured to the field behind her with a faltering smile, proclaiming, " _It's fine!  The crops will grow now!_ "

 

A stunned silence had settled over the crowd, their faces a mixture of horror and fear.  Then one angry voice shouted, " _Witch!_ "

 

John is silent for a moment before hesitantly asking, "And what exactly do you do to witches here?"

 

Meeting his gaze, River answers flatly, "Burn them."

 

He swallows, watching her with wide eyes.  "How did you escape?"

 

"They bound my hands, but I didn't need to touch the fire to be able to control it.  So when they set flame to the pyre, I used my Ora to turn the fire on them instead."

 

Just speaking of it brings their screams to her ears, the smell of scorched flesh to her nostrils, and the taste of smoke burning at her throat.  It had been horrific, and she had fallen to her knees, sobbing at the death her actions had brought.  Madame had found her in that very spot hours later, when the village was silent and all that was left was ash and smoke.

 

" _Let this serve as a reminder of your purpose, my pet,_ " Madame had said, hand resting on River's curls.  " _You are not meant to protect, you are meant to kill.  And that is all you will ever be capable of._ "

 

"They all died?"  John asks. 

 

"Not all of them.  Some survived- ran to the nearest town for shelter and began to spread word of Orenda's witch."

 

 

"And what did you do?"

 

 

The concern in his eyes feels foreign to her, and not at all what she was expecting.  He's an idiot, River concludes for the hundredth time.  Still, something about the softness in his gaze makes her feel...safe.  It is an unusual feeling, but comforting, and suddenly she realizes that she will need to build her walls even higher than before if she plans on keeping him out.

 

 

Shrugging, River finally answers, "I moved to where I live now- that small cottage far out of the reach of people."

 

 

Brow furrowed, John reaches out and takes her hand.  "I'm sorry."

 

 

Stunned, River stares at their entwined fingers and wonders why instead of recognizing her as the threat that she is, he chooses to comfort her instead.  Even more curious, why hasn't she pulled away?

 

 

"It sounds lonely," John notes.

 

 

"What does?"

 

 

"Your life."

 

 

Before River can reign in her words, she answers simply, "It is."

 

 

For a moment, John only watches her with a solemn stare.  Then, perking up with a smile, he speaks, "Well not anymore.  You have me now- your accomplice."

 

 

A smirk curls at her lips as she teases, "I think I'd rather be alone."

 

 

"Whatever you say, dear," John responds with a pleased grin, as if seeing right through her. 

 

 

River's smirk slips, and suddenly she feels that her walls lie in shambles.

 

 

But walls can be rebuilt, even mental ones.  

 

 

Laying the first brick, River pulls her hand from his and ignores the wounded look that briefly crosses his face.  Determinedly, she avoids his gaze and stares unseeing as the winding path narrowing behind them.  If she finds herself enjoying the way the Gallifreyan Prince has invaded her life, it is only because she knows he is her purpose-  _killing him_  is her purpose- nothing more.

 

XxX

 

John sits frozen, eyes wide and incredibly alert for someone who had been fast asleep just moments ago.  It's been three weeks since they left Albaj, the path taken from the village originally surrounded by rolling hills and vast plains having now transformed into thick forest.  When they stop for rest, it is lucky if he can find a patch of ground without large roots that will make his sleep uncomfortable.  It seems the days of small clearings with soft grass is behind them.

 

The sound of something tromping through the woods continues to get closer, John's hearts pounding away in his ears.  On instinct, he reaches out a hand for River, his hearts falling when he sees she's not there.  She has done this before- gone off to scavenge for berries or fish in the wee hours of the morning, nearly scaring him to death when he would wake up to find himself alone.

 

It is nearly dawn, but not quite, the sky hinting at the light to come, but still dark enough where he can't see as well as he would like.  Squinting in the direction of the ever-nearing sound of snapping twigs and crunching leaves, John finds himself praying to the gods that it isn't one of those bear things River loves to tease him about.

 

 

At this point, John has realized that whatever it is means to come straight for him.  Standing, he holds up his fists, trying to quell his rising panic.  Surely he would be able to take on a bear- they can't be too big, right?

 

The moment his assumed assailant is in view, John lets out a sigh of relief.  "You scared the hell out of me, River- I thought you were a bear!"

 

Pulling back the hood of her cloak, River takes in his defensive pose with an amused smirk.  "You were going to engage in a fist fight with a bear, then?"

 

Dropping his fists and fighting down a blush of embarrassment, John argues, "I could've taken him."

 

She snorts, jostling the object in her arms and dropping her pack to the ground.  John frowns, glancing between it and the bag he has been lugging around for weeks.  "We definitely only had one pack yesterday," he notes.

 

"And now we have two.  I had to... _acquire_  some things from a nearby village."

 

He sighs.  "Can't you go just one week without stealing things?"

 

Rolling her eyes, River counters, "I only take what we need.  Besides, I left our horse and cart in exchange- more than a fair trade if you ask me."

 

John gapes at her.  "What was so important that you gave our horse away?"

 

 

The woman thrusts out her arms in answer, and it's only then that he realizes what she has been holding is a cloak.  When he stares at it hesitantly, River sighs and encourages, "Just take it- it won't bite."

 

So he does, delighted to find the heavy garment soft to the touch.  It is deep purple, reminiscent of one of his tweed coats and almost regal looking.  When he swings it around his shoulders to fasten at his neck, he almost feels like the prince he is meant to be.

 

"How does it look?"

 

River gives an appreciative hum, but only says, "Far better than the tweed."

 

For the first time since staying at the Pandorica, John feels warm, wrapping the cloak around himself happily.  It's been mildly cold- no where near the winters of Gallifrey, but trekking through the chilly air without a cloak has been uncomfortable nonetheless.

 

"Thank you," John says sincerely.

 

"Don't thank me," River says with a wave of her hand.  "Thank the Orendan official who so kindly and unwittingly gave it to me."

 

"You're terrible," John admonishes, the amused smile that crosses his lips belying the sentiment.

 

Smirking, she answers confidently, "You like it."

 

"I do." 

 

 

His hearts give a light flutter at how close his words are to the truth.  He doesn't just like her bad streak, he likes  _her_.

 

 

Pushing aside his thoughts, John gestures to their new pack.  "So what else did you steal?"

 

 

Giving the bag a nudge with the toe of her boot, River frowns at it and says, "We're coming up on the Hanging City of Hyra, and I thought we could stop there for some proper food and rest.  I needed to find something different to wear- the citizens there are a bit conservative when it comes to women's clothing."

 

His first question should be on clarification as to what exactly 'Hanging City' means, but instead John finds himself frowning at her blouse and trousers.  "What's wrong with what you're wearing now?"

 

River shrugs.  "For whatever reason, Hyran women are against trousers."

 

"Oh," he replies simply, already mourning the rather fantastic view he gets when River goes without her cloak.

 

"I also got some coin and a map," River speaks as she opens the pack and pulls out what appears to be a roll of parchment.

 

The sky has lightened enough for John to be able to make out the map, and though he recognizes markings for mountains, rivers, forests, cities, and a vast sea separating large pieces of land, he finds himself feeling completely lost as he studies it.

 

"My cottage and your ship are around here," River speaks as she gestures to an area of the map.  "And here is Albaj."  She taps a spot on the parchment, then runs her finger down to where there are more forest markings.  "We're here now, in the Forest of Hyra.  The Hanging City is only about a day's travel away."

 

"And where is Karah?"

 

"Here," River states, pointing to the city on the map, which is further than he had been hoping.

 

Dread filling his stomach, he asks warily, "We have to travel across the sea?"

 

A small frown pulling at her mouth, River looks at him and asks, "Is that a problem?"

 

 

"I just...I've never traveled on a sea ship."

 

"First time for everything, Prince," she quips with a smirk.  "Now grab your pack- I want to get moving so we can get to the Hanging City before sundown."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a slow chapter, thanks for sticking with me! <333


	5. our love ain't water under the bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's eyes widen at his surroundings as he climbs past the lower canopy, the hum from earlier suddenly distinguishable as the sounds of everyday life. The ladder brings him to a wooden platform attached to the tree, the sign above it reading, "The Hanging City of Hyra. Welcome!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Water Under the Bridge" by Adele

 

 

The sun is just beginning to set when John begins to hear it- a low, disjointed hum, occasionally punctured by louder, indistinguishable echoing noises.  The path before them is clear, no signs of anyone or anything, yet the sounds become louder with every step he takes.

 

River halts abruptly, giving him a small smile as she gestures toward a rather large tree.  "After you."

 

Resting against the trunk of one of the many monstrous trees is a rope ladder, John frowning in confusion as he tilts his head up and sees it disappear into the lower canopy of the thick forest.  The destination of the ladder is obscured by the volume of leaves, John's frown deepening as he regards River with a raised brow.

 

"Go ahead," River pushes as she drops her pack to the ground and begins to rummage through it.  "I'll be behind you."

 

Curiosity winning over caution, John shrugs and reaches for the ladder.  It sways slightly as he climbs, the rungs made of smooth wood and the rope squeaking from his weight. 

 

His eyes widen at his surroundings as he climbs past the lower canopy, the hum from earlier suddenly distinguishable as the sounds of everyday life.  The ladder brings him to a wooden platform attached to the tree, the sign above it reading, " _The Hanging City of Hyra.  Welcome!"_

 

The moment his feet are planted firmly on the platform, John finds himself stunned as he takes in the view.  'Hanging City' indeed.  From the path that runs along the forest floor, no one would ever guess what has been created just above their heads.  There are wooden structures built as far as the eye can see, all attached to tree trunks with wooden beams as support.  Some are small, squat, and built nearly on top of one another, and others reach stories tall and look about as unstable as can be.  Wooden staircases spiral around tree trunks to reach the different buildings attached to each tree, and rope bridges with wooden planks are suspended between a number of select structures, making the whole thing look more like an elaborate spider web than anything else.

 

The upper canopy of the forest blocks the sun, the majority of the city's illumination coming from hundreds of oil lamps hanging by rope from the tallest branches, all swaying together in the gentle forest breeze.  John was always taught that fire and forests never went well together, but who is he to question a city that seems to be getting on just fine?

 

There is the same hustle and bustle present that one expects from a city, but somehow it all feels a bit more magical.  Citizens rush past one another on the hanging bridges, arms loaded down with an assortment of shopping bags, and looks of concentration on their faces.  Others are sat around tables on platforms extended from what must be restaurants, laughing and eating and enjoying what must be a normal day in the Hanging City. 

 

There are vendors set up at either ends of the bridges, trying to catch customers before or after they cross, enticing them with samples and promises of bargain deals.  One woman leans out of her window to beat her rug with a stick, earning a grumbling complaint from a man far beneath her.  The smell of sweets fills the air from a nearby pastry shop, mingling with the smell of the forest and damp earth.

 

Almost instantly, John thinks he would be happy if they never left.

 

"Pretty amazing, isn't it?"

 

River speaks from beside him, startling him.  He had been so focused on the city that he hadn't noticed that she finally followed him up.  His mouth goes dry as he looks at her, taking to staring at her instead of the impressive city before him.  The dress she has changed into makes him surprisingly grateful for the Hyran's distaste toward female trousers.

 

River plucks at the thin material of the light blue dress- a color he now associates with the Orendan sky- and asks, "What?  Does it look okay?"

 

Oh gods.  Much more than okay.  The soft material clings to her curves before flowing down to dance at the tops of her boots, the long sleeves taper to her thin wrists, and the neckline drops just low enough to tease.  Her curls have somehow been tamed back into an elastic band, leaving her throat exposed, and the image of sinking his teeth into the skin there springs unbidden to his mind.

 

"Fine," is all John manages to squeak out, banishing the fantasy from his head as heat flushes his cheeks.

 

"Good," River responds with a relieved nod, completely unaware of his thoughts.  "Now let's go."

 

When she steps in front of him and onto one of the suspended bridges, his eyes widen as he takes in the back of the dress.  In the center, cords cross from the small of her back to the neckline, small patches of skin peeking through in areas where it wasn't tightly laced. 

 

John nearly trips in his haste to follow her, his eyes for River alone and the city around him suddenly forgotten.

 

XxX

 

The outside air chills River's bare skin as she pulls her dress over her head and drops it to the ground.  Hesitantly, she dips her toe into the water, sighing happily as she finds it comfortably warm.  Stepping in until the water reaches her shoulders, River rests against the rocks at the back of the small pool, feeling as if she can relax for the first time in a month.

 

The hot springs of the Hanging City are something of legend, and now she understands why.  The water feels amazing, and the small pools are private, a climb down from the city and enclosed by a circle of large trees.  River closes her eyes and releases another sigh.  She could stay here forever.  Or at least until her fingers start to prune.

 

Her solitude is interrupted as there are sounds of someone descending the rope ladder, followed by a muffled curse and a stumbling as they land on the ground.  John. 

 

Slowly, River opens an eye, her suspicion confirmed as she sees the idiot dusting himself off before looking up to offer her a beaming grin.  "They told me I'd find you here!"  He takes a step toward the pool before halting suddenly, a flush stealing beautifully across his cheeks.  "Are you...do you not have on clothes?"

 

Both eyes open now, River forces down her amused smirk.  "Why would I wear clothes into a hot spring?"

 

Avoiding looking at her, John focuses his attention upward as he answers with a frown.  "I suppose you wouldn't."

 

"You'll have to drop your trousers, too, if you expect to join me, Prince."

 

The man coughs, his face turning redder, much to her delight.  "Join you?  Why...why would I do that?"

 

"Why else would you be here?"

 

His eyes dart quickly back to her before turning upward once more.  "Right, you're right.  Okay.  But don't look," he orders as he turns from her, tugging his bow tie loose.

 

River answers with a noncommittal hum, keeping her eyes fastened on him with a smirk as the bow tie flutters to the ground and he pulls the braces from his shoulders.  The shirt follows, River finding herself admiring the line of his spine and the angles of his shoulder blades.  After kicking away his boots and socks, John shimmies rather ungracefully out of his trousers and pants, River's brows lifting as she takes in the view.

 

Without fully turning to face her, John peeks over his shoulder, sputtering and attempting in vain to cover his bare arse with his hands when he finds her watching.  "River!  You said you wouldn't look!"

 

A genuine smile crosses her face as she laughs.  "No I didn't."

 

"Well don't look!"

 

"Okay."

 

A beat, then John asks hesitantly, "Are you still looking?"

 

River smirks.  "Yes."

 

"River!"

 

Laughing again, she turns in the water to rest her elbows on the large rocks, chin in her palms and her back now to him.  "Okay, okay.  I'm not looking."

 

"Are you sure?"

 

She rolls her eyes.  "Yes, I'm sure."

 

"If I turn around and you're looking-"

 

"John."

 

"Okay!"

 

The graceless splashing of water alerts her that he finally gave in, and after a moment River turns to find him up to his shoulders in the cloudy water.  Eyes closed, he murmurs, "This feels amazing."

 

His cheeks are flushed red, and she doesn't know if it's from the embarrassment of moments ago or the steam of the spring, but either way she thinks he looks bloody gorgeous.  Strands of his floppy hair stick to his face, a content sigh comes from those pouty lips, and all that pale skin on display makes her want to push him against the rocks and press herself against every inch of him.

 

Mentally stamping down those thoughts as if they were a fire, River forces a smirk and taunts, "You know what else is amazing?"

 

"What?"  John asks, opening his eyes to look at her.

 

"The view I got of your rather fantastic bum."

 

As if she flipped a switch, John immediately turns bright red.  Narrowing his eyes in a playful glare, he pushes his palms into the water, splashing her.  It's just a small splash, enough to have a few water droplets roll down her face, but it surprises her nonetheless.

 

For a moment River only gapes at him in shock, then a bubble of laughter wells inside her chest, the skin around her eyes crinkling happily as she lets it out and splashes him in retaliation.  Drenched now, John laughs with her and huffs, "Very mature."

 

"You started it," she insists, laughter still in her voice as she tucks a loose, damp curl back into her bun.

 

He watches her without reply, his hazel eyes fond, and a slight sadness appearing there that confuses her.  Remembering herself- she is  _not_  some giggling girl who engages in water fights with idiot men- River pushes down her smile and asks, "What?"

 

"Nothing," John hedges, pausing hesitantly before continuing, "You just remind me of someone- your laugh, it feels familiar."  He grins suddenly, tugging gently at the curl that has escaped yet again.  "Same hair, too."

 

River's eyes widen, staring at him in what feels like horror because  _no_.  He cannot be talking about...

 

Over the pounding of her hearts in her ears, she hears herself question, "Who?"

 

"My friend."

 

Swallowing, River encourages, "Tell me about her."

 

This time when he smiles, it isn't for her.  It's soft and distant.  Sad. 

 

"She was the daughter of the Gallifreyan General.  A bit wild, independent, and nothing like the Capitol wanted her to be, something that we had in common.  When we were expected at royal functions we would sneak off to the woods together instead, hold hands and run through the trees until our feet couldn't carry us any further, just to get away."  John grins.  "And of course we would get in trouble together as soon as we returned."

 

"Sounds like more than just a friend."

 

"Well we were betrothed," John says with a light laugh.  "But we were just kids- too young to really understand what that meant."

 

River feels as if she can barely breathe as she watches him.   _Betrothed?_   Madame never said anything about that...not...not that it matters.  For all she knows, John may not be talking about younger her anyway.

 

Trying to seem nonchalant, she asks, "What was her name?"

 

The distant smile returns as he answers, "Melody."

 

It's all River can do to not flinch at the name.  Confusion roars inside her, her grasp on reality seeming to slip just slightly because how can he be talking about her?  The stories Madame told her of her childhood are nothing like anything John is describing.  Melody wasn't wanted, she didn't belong- not in Gallifrey, not anywhere. 

 

But according to the man remembering her, she belonged with him this entire time.

 

He must be lying, River reasons.  He's Gallifreyan royalty- according to Madame, lying is what they do best.  Right next to mass murdering thousands, anyway.

 

"You keep using past tense," River notes, wishing that her mouth would stop speaking without her permission.

 

"What?"

 

"Past tense," River snaps.  "You talk about her like she's gone."

 

Of course she's gone- she's been gone for a very long while now, but something in River just wants to hear him say it.

 

"She is," John confirms, the sadness that has been warring with that fond light suddenly winning out as his expression falls.

 

If she thought it would help to hear it from his lips, she was very,  _very_  wrong.  Instead, it feels like a dagger has been plunged right between her twin hearts.

 

"What happened?"

 

John shakes his head, a silent plea to not talk on it any further, and River is stunned to find his eyes wet with tears.  On instinct, she lifts a hand from the water to cup the side of his face, trying to still the slight shaking of her fingers.  His hand covers hers, his eyes shutting as he nuzzles slightly into her palm.

 

Her world feels tilted and off balance- John, the Gallifreyan king-to-be, is before her nearly in tears as he thinks of losing her younger self.  He is acting in a way she would never have predicted from what she has learned of the royal family from Madame.  It's too confusing and River finds she wishes not to think on it.  At least for now.

 

Eager to move onto something else, John pulls her hand from his face and inspects her fingers.  "You're turning pruny, dear."

 

"You really know how to flatter a girl," River answers dryly.

 

He grins, and she is grateful to see it reach his eyes.  "We should probably get out."

 

"All you've done is splash me with water- I've not had any time to relax!"  She protests, her hearts feeling lighter at their bickering.

 

Sighing, he leans against the rocks and admits, "After all the walking we've done, it really does feel bloody amazing in here."

 

Offering a sly smirk, River echoes her words from earlier, "You know what else is amazing?"

 

When the splash comes, it is entirely expected, her laugh ringing out as she decides relaxing has never really been her cup of tea anyway.

 

XxX

 

They have been in the Hanging City for nearly a week, and it seems to John that neither of them are particularly eager to move on.  They just finished a rather delicious meal where they ate on a platform overlooking the lower canopy, and now they walk the city together, something that has become a bit of a ritual since the beginning of their time here.  Just like every evening before, John tucks River's hand into the crook of his elbow, grinning to himself when she doesn't look at him in surprise, a fleeting smile crossing her lips instead.

 

Before crossing one of the suspended bridges, they stop to admire the view of the city.  As opposed to usual, John is the one who is briefly startled when River moves just an inch closer and rests her head on his shoulder, her curls tickling at the skin of his neck.  His hearts flutter ridiculously at her closeness, and timidly he moves his arm to wrap around her, his fingers resting at the indent of her waist.  He counts it as a victory when she doesn't jerk away from his touch like a startled cat, breathing in the fresh forest air and releasing it on a relieved, grateful sigh.

 

Breaking their silence, John suggests, "Maybe we don't have to go to Karah after all.  We could just stay here."

 

Looking up at him with a small frown and obviously not understanding his meaning, River states, "The Hanging City doesn't have any spacecrafts, working or otherwise."

 

Avoiding her gaze, he looks out over the city and says, "Maybe I'm not really worried about finding a spaceship, then."

 

"How else would you get home?"

 

Thoughts on his birth planet, John muses, "Gallifrey hasn't felt like home in a very long time."

 

River pulls away from him, looking a bit stunned, and he immediately regrets saying anything at all. 

 

"What are you saying?"

 

"I dunno.  Just...maybe we could stay."

 

"Stay here?  How long?"

 

John shrugs.  "As long as we want."

 

"And how long before the citizens here figure out who you are?  Who I am?  How long before your father sends the Royal Guard in their fancy spacecrafts to come looking for you, consequences of their presence be damned?  Not to mention, we're almost out of coin!"

 

"So no objections to spending an indefinite amount of time with me, then?"

 

Looking flustered, River huffs, "That too."

 

Lightly bopping her on the nose, John grins and says, "I think I'm growing on you, dear."

 

"In your dreams, Prince."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, but not insignificant??? Hopefully????? *drowns in anxiety*


	6. i closed my eyes to so much for so long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> River glances up as he approaches, a small smile crossing her face that causes his hearts to leap. "Done scheming now, Prince?"
> 
> John huffs. "I wasn't scheming."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "I Know the Truth" from the musical Aida

 

 

The sun has set, resting behind the tall evergreens that now surround them and casting the world in the soft glow of twilight.  Three weeks have passed since they left the Hanging City, and though they travel south it only seems to be getting colder- possibly because they have found themselves deep within a rather impressive mountain range.

 

The Providence Mountains are every bit as ominous and intimidating as those that are found on Gallifrey.  Their peaks reach to the heavens, obscured by clouds and making it seem as if they stretch upward forever.  Despite the season, the mountains remain green, the trees that blanket them full of color all year round.

 

This part of Orenda is beautiful and still in the pre-night hush.  The air is crisp and fresh, biting, but in a way that John finds revitalizing as opposed to uncomfortable.

 

River glances up as he approaches, a small smile crossing her face that causes his hearts to leap.  "Done scheming now, Prince?"

 

John huffs.  "I wasn't scheming."

 

"Well you certainly didn't want to tell me what you were up to."

 

He smiles then, idly wondering if he looks as besotted as he feels.  Extending a hand to her, John says, "That's because I wanted to show you.  Come along, Song."

 

Despite her skeptical expression, River slides her hand into his and allows him to pull her from the forest floor.  Lacing their fingers together, John leads her to the surprise he has set up- one of their thin blankets laid out in a small clearing that overlooks a cliff, their cheese, bread, and dried meat placed artfully on their assigned cloths, a neat pile of berries he picked himself resting in the corner, and two small candles lit right in the center.

 

River gives a light laugh at the sight, her fingers tightening slightly around his.  "What's this?"

 

"Dinner," John states, pulling his hand from hers so he can gesture for her to sit.  "This area reminds me of a place back home- Asgard.  Perfect for picnics."

 

John positions himself across from River on the blanket, reaching and picking up a berry with a smug smile.  "Scavenged for these myself."

 

Her eyes widen when she sees the berry, immediately leaning forward and smacking it out of his hand.  "Those are poison, John!"

 

"Oh," he replies flatly, staring at the small, apparently evil berry now resting in the grass and seeing his life flash before his eyes.  Then, getting an idea, he glances at her guiltily and lies, "I may have already eaten some."

 

"What?!"

 

It is rather impressive how she flies across the blanket and into his lap, one hand cupping his chin and pulling, and raising her other in full preparation to shove her fingers down his throat to make him vomit up the poison he never actually ate.

 

John grins, giving her pause as the panic leaves her eyes and she asks suspiciously, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

 

His hands grip her waist, fingers digging into the material of her jodhpurs as he answers, "I didn't actually eat any.  Just wanted to see what you would do about it."

 

River's hands drop to his shoulders, looking unimpressed but not entirely surprised by his antics.  "And did I disappoint?"

 

"Quite the opposite, dear," John answers with a smirk, tightening his arms around her waist and pulling her so she is practically flush against him.

 

"You're an arse."  Despite the glare River gives him, there is a warmth in her eyes that fills his chest.

 

It surprises him that she doesn't scramble to get away, instead reaching up to card her fingers gently through the fringe of his hair.  John loves the weight of her on his lap, the warmth that she brings with her, and the intimacy that comes with feeling her warm breath on his cheek.

 

River looks at him, something warring in her eyes, and when she glances ever so briefly at his lips, he finds that any resolve he had has now crumbled to his feet.  One hand moves to rest at her thigh, while his other reaches up to tenderly cup the side of her face.  Her eyes go wide, slightly startled as she realizes his intention, but he is only encouraged when she doesn't move away.

 

With River's hand curled at the back of his neck, John leans forward.  At the last moment, she turns her head slightly, his lips pressing to the corner of her mouth.  It isn't exactly what he was hoping for, but her shuddering intake of breath tells him that he should count it as a win regardless.  John lingers, her fingers tightening in the hair at the nape of his neck.

 

His nose presses into the cool skin of her cheek, his lips brushing lightly against the line of her jaw.  For a moment, neither of them move, River pressed against him in such a way that John is sure she must be able to feel the thundering of his hearts.

 

Then the moment is gone, River moving from his lap to sit beside him on the blanket.  Clearing her throat and seeming a bit dazed, she gestures toward the candles, obviously eager to move on from what just happened. 

 

"Where did you even get those?"

 

Yes, definitely a win, John thinks as he notes the lightest of flushes appearing at her cheeks.

 

"I might have taken them from our room in the Hanging City," he admits.

 

River gives a surprised laugh.  "You  _stole_  them?"

 

A proud grin beams across John's face, and River laughs again, bright and delighted.  "Maybe you really are less of a prince than I thought."

 

XxX

 

If he ever questioned how the Providence Mountains got their name, he no longer has to wonder.  The sun is high in the sky when he catches a glimpse of their next stop, John feeling a bit dumbstruck as he takes in the view.  He and River walk a rocky path around a large basin created deep within the mountains, the water below sparkling almost joyfully from the rays of the sun.  Waterfalls roar down from higher up, and while they make quite the sight, they also make it rather difficult to walk, the path sometimes following the edge of the basin before being forced to travel inland once again. 

 

Far on the other side, built into the slope of one of the surrounding mountains, is the city of Hallelujah.  The city rests just above the large lake of water, full of stone structures, elaborate archways, golden domes, and narrow spires reaching for the sky.  Above it, an almost terrifying waterfall splits and bookends the city at either side.  The waterfall crashes down into the basin, mist rising up and creating the illusion that the city is floating.

 

It seems as if Hallelujah must have been handcrafted by the gods themselves, the mountains protecting it truly living up to their namesake.

 

They don't arrive to the city gates until the sun has fallen behind the mountains, oranges and purples and pinks of the sky giving off a soft glow.  The gate has been forged of iron, the metal weaving to make intricate designs, and the tops ending in points so sharp no one would ever dare climb it.  It swings slowly open as they step forward, John frowning at how the guards barely even glance their way as they pass.

 

"What's the point of the gate if they're going to let just anyone in?"

 

River shrugs, a smirk appearing as she muses, "Maybe it's to keep out the bears."

 

John narrows his eyes at her teasing.  "I'm starting to think those things aren't even real."

 

"Think whatever you like, darling, but don't come running to me when you've got a bear chasing you."

 

There is more arguing in him, but River gently nudges him to continue down the cobbled street.  "You go ahead.  Find us somewhere to stay- I'll catch up."

 

"Where are you going?"

 

"Well we can't very well get a room without any coin, now can we?"

 

John gives an exasperated sigh.  "Is that your plan for everything?  Go where you want and steal what you need?"

 

Her brow rises.  "Seems to be working out just fine so far."

 

John reaches out to tug lightly at one of her curls, his exasperation easily replaced with adoration.  "Just be careful."

 

"Careful?"  River echoes, turning from him and throwing over her shoulder, "Ever so dull."

 

XxX 

 

_Her dress is itchy.  Purple this time, with a hideous bow that ties a sash at the waist.  Melody's small hands tug at it, wondering if it's possible to rip it off.  Maybe set it on fire._

 

_John giggles when he sees her, poking the fluffy material at her shoulders as she bestows him with a fiery glare and threatens, "Make fun of me and I won't get betrothed to you."_

 

_The boy grins.  "I wasn't picking on you- I think it's a fun dress.  Besides, I don't think we have a choice.  Also, we match!"  John exclaims excitedly, gesturing to the bow at her waist before pointing to the purple bow tie at his neck.  Tugging proudly at it, he asks, "Do you like it?  It's for the ceremony."_

 

_After a moment of hesitation, Melody nods.  "You look pretty."_

 

_Today is their binding ceremony, and while she has heard the word 'betrothal' thrown around all her life, apparently today is going to make it official.  Gallifreyans are coming from all over to witness the event, the palace servants have been running around in a frenzy for weeks in preparation, and her father even sat her down to tell her how very important it was for her not to run off with John this time._

 

_She doesn't understand the importance of it, all she knows is that it means she will be with John forever.  He is her best friend, and if she has to suffer through just one ceremony for a lifetime of running with him, then it can't possibly be that bad._

 

_The dinner that precedes the event goes only about as well as one could expect.  Melody and John sit opposite one another at the very center of a long table.  The talk is dull, loud conversations of foreign policy, gleeful, giddy gossip, and underneath it all, whispers of how this ceremony only concretes the Capitol's fears.  They say she and John will take this planet to hell when the time comes._

_Though she doesn't understand the words or the implications of what comes with being promised to the Gallifreyan Prince, somehow Melody still feels like an outcast at a ceremony that half revolves around her.  Her small fists clench into the pristine table cloth as the almost ever-persistent nag of not being good enough for those around her reclaims its spot in her stomach.  Then, it disappears as she looks up at John to find him miming hanging himself just to get her to laugh._

_Melody giggles.  The adults around her may find her unable to reach their standards, but she is enough for her best friend and that is all that will ever matter._

 

_She refuses to let the Capitol turn her into their well-mannered dress-up doll, so she takes to doing what she does best- small, barely noticed acts of rebellion that quiet her unease, if only for a little while.  Melody picks a grape from her plate and skewers it onto her fork.  One eye closed, she aims for John and bends the utensil.  When she lets go, the grape flies across the table and pops John right on the forehead._

 

_The boy gapes at her in surprise, an expression that has her nearly beside herself as she bites down on her tongue to contain her giggles.  Wanting revenge, John stabs his fork on a piece of meat and aims.  Melody leans forward, her playful smirk meant as a silent taunt.  When the piece of meat lands, it isn't on her, but on the generous bosom of the fine lady sitting next to her.  The lady screeches, John sinks into his chair, face bright red, and Melody laughs until there are tears in her eyes._

 

_Despite the catastrophe that dinner turned into, the binding ceremony is performed without a hitch.  John and Melody's hands are bound together with the silk of John's bow tie, consent for them to be promised to one another is given by her parents and his father, and when asked if there are any objections, the people keep their grumblings to themselves, not daring to speak out against the King's wishes._

 

_When it is over, John and Melody immediately make their escape to the comfort of the forest.  One day, the time will come for John's coronation and they will be married, but for now they cast the future aside, hold hands, and run._

 

River wakes with the dream fresh in her mind.  Though, if she is honest with herself, it felt more like a memory.  More concrete, more tangible, more memorable than something as fleeting as a dream.  These memories have been coming to her in her sleep with more and more frequency as of late, leaving her shaken and lost when she opens her eyes to reality.

 

River is surprised when she twists under her sheets and finds the bed across the room empty, blanket thrown back and no sign of John.  It always makes her a little nervous when he decides to roam by himself- who knows what kind of trouble may find him.  For now, she pushes aside her absurd worrying and decides she will look for him if he doesn't return within the hour.

 

The stone floor is cold beneath her bare feet as she stands, a chill in the air that she ignores as she spots the bow tie John must have left behind draped carelessly over the vanity.  Picking up her dress from the floor, River throws it over herself before timidly pulling the bow tie from its place.  Her dream- her  _memory_ \- on her mind, she glances behind her at the closed door before wrapping the bow tie around her hand.  Her hearts pound at the comfort of the silk against her skin, the rightness of it.

 

A pecking at the window pane jolts her from her thoughts.  The chill that slices through her has nothing to do with the temperature of the room and everything to do with the bird that now sits outside her window and watches her with impatient, beady eyes.

 

Madame's messenger bird.

 

With shaking fingers, River pushes up the window and takes the small piece of parchment tied around the bird's leg.  It gives a light, but insistent peck to her finger before taking flight, as if berating her for not staying focused on her purpose.

 

Months have passed since John crash landed onto Orenda and into her life.  The River who sent that first message to Madame was a different River than she is now- how exactly, she isn't quite sure.  The message River sent had alerted her guardian of the sudden appearance of the Gallifreyan king-to-be, and that she planned to bring him to Madame before taking his life.  A part of her- a small part, very deep down, and which she refuses to acknowledge- wishes that she had never sent it all. 

 

Her bottom lip trembles as her mind races at all the different possible replies Madame could have written, and River briefly closes her eyes to steady herself before unrolling the parchment.

 

_Bring him_.

 

Two words.  A confirmation of River's plan, that is all, so why does she suddenly feel so violently ill?

 

The door to their room opens suddenly, startling her.  John grins at her from the doorway.  "Excellent, you're up!  I brought breakfast."

 

River softens at his lopsided grin and warm eyes, the fingers holding Madame's message relaxing and the parchment floating out of the open window to be lost forever.

 

John places the food on the small table tucked into the corner of the room, and River moves over to him, all thoughts of Madame having disappeared at his presence alone.  Unwrapping the bow tie from her hand, she invades his space and loops it around his neck before beginning to tie it.  "I can't believe you left without your bow tie, ridiculous man."

 

John grins softly at her, hands resting at her waist as she works.  "I knew you liked it."

 

Smoothing her fingers over the tied silk, a fond smile quirks at her lips.  "It makes you pretty."

 

XxX

 

The buildings of Hallelujah are all crafted from the same elegant white stone, but the citizens here more than make up for the neutral cityscape.  They dress in fine silks of rich colors, completing their looks with feathered hats or ostentatious jewelry.  It is reminiscent of the Capitol, though it lacks the responsibilities and ever-present judgmental nature.  In fact, the citizens here seem to look over him completely, probably due to his clothing that seems to fall a bit below their standards.

 

River has taken to wearing her blue dress again, and John assumes that the citizens of Hallelujah must have a similar view on women's clothing as the Hyrans'.  Again, he's not complaining.  What he does find curious, however, is how River keeps up the hood of her cloak whenever they step out of their room.

 

Poking at her hood as they stroll leisurely through the cobbled streets, John asks, "Why do you always wear it up?"

 

"It's cold."

 

John resists the urge to roll his eyes.  "What's the  _real_  reason?"

 

River frowns.  "How do you know that isn't the real reason?"

 

"I can tell.  Also, I know you hate what it does to your hair- which, for the record, looks fabulous no matter what."

 

With narrowed eyes, she says a bit sharply, "I never told you that."

 

John grins.  "I pay attention."

 

For a moment River is silent, lips pursed, then she answers, "The likelihood of me being recognized is increased the closer we get to Karah."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because I used to live there."

 

A lump forms in his throat.  "Karah was your home?"

 

She lifts a shoulder.  "For a time."

 

John halts, grabbing her hands to bring her to a stop with him.  Looking into her eyes and searching for something he isn't exactly sure, he asks, "And you're...okay?"

 

River huffs out a confused laugh.  "I'm standing in front of you, aren't I?"

 

"No, I mean...my father was under the impression that everyone in Karah had been executed or Slated."

 

"That's the second time you've used that word."

 

"Slated?"

 

River nods.

 

"It's the name we gave to Kovarian's brainwashing technique."

 

Her face turns expressionless, John frowning and continuing, "You have to know about the brainwashing."

 

"I was very young," River responds, her blank mask still in place.

 

"The Orendans welcomed Gallifrey's presence.  The trade system that emerged between the two planets stimulated their economy and introduced technology that was far beyond their current development.  Of course, not everyone was pleased with the colonization, both here and on Gallifrey, but it was Kovarian who took it a step further."

 

"She wanted to end the tyranny," states River, a hesitant, but stubborn edge in her voice.

 

John gives a disbelieving laugh.  "What tyranny?"

 

River returns the incredulous look.  "You can't expect me to believe that your father took over an entire planet without wanting everything he could get his hands on."

 

His brow furrows.  "My father rules with a council.  Their objective was to merge Orenda under Gallifreyan rule so that Orenda could reach it's full potential- which would help this planet as well as Gallifrey.  The Orendan officials at the time wanted it, the  _people_  wanted it."

 

Anger flares in River's eyes, and John can feel the word  _liar_  in her gaze just as if she had spit it at him.  Confused and a bit hurt, he grips her hands tighter.  "I'm not lying, River."

 

She pulls her hands from his grasp, and John tries not to equate it with being slapped in the face as she demands, "Tell me about the brainwashing."

 

Feeling like this is more important than he understands, John obliges without hesitation.  "In her last negotiation with my father, Kovarian admitted to it.  Said he would never beat her, that Gallifrey was sure to fall because she had the power to pull all of Orenda under her influence."

 

When all River does is stare, John continues, "My father's plan was never to destroy Karah, but when a small group of Gallifreyan troops first invaded, they found the labs.  Kovarian had engineered a serum called the Silence.  Once injected, the person affected would have no memory of their previous life."

 

"A new slate," River states, looking a bit pale.

 

John nods, wanting to reach for her but wisely keeping his hands to himself.  "She did it to thousands- hundreds of thousands, the entire city.  Gave each person a new purpose which they carried through until death.  Those who resisted were executed.  My father and his council thought the entire planet had been affected, but luckily her influence never had a chance to reach past Karah.  And even luckier still that he didn't have enough knowledge of Orenda to locate the other cities- at that point, I'm not sure he would have had any mercy on anyone."

 

"Sounds a bit tyrannical, to me."

 

John frowns.  "Kovarian didn't give him a choice.  Those who had been Slated were more of a threat than any man-made weapon could have ever hoped to be.  Somehow, she was able to smuggle a group into Gallifrey and they silently slaughtered hundreds before my father was able to locate them all."

 

"And that was the last straw?"

 

Chest aching at the thought of what happened next, John shakes his head.  "There was more."

 

River snorts.  "What more could she possibly do?"

 

"She made it personal."  Swallowing around the lump in his throat, John says, "She took Melody."

 

Her eyes shoot up to meet his, looking pained for one moment before carefully turning expressionless once more.  "So the answer was to destroy an entire city?"

 

"My father sent the Guard to Karah to look for Melody, but the more months that passed, the more people Kovarian had Slated and the more people died.  He tried to reason with her, and when she refused, he ended it."

 

"And you never got her back?"

 

John doesn't need to ask who  _her_  is to know, simply shaking his head when he finds his throat too constricted to speak.

 

Giving a small shrug and suddenly not meeting his gaze, River suggests, "I escaped Karah before the attack...maybe she did, too."

 

Sighing sadly, John looks to the sky and says, "No.  If she had survived, she would have come home."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so so much for reading <333 Your comments keep me smiling like a fool throughout the whole week!


	7. honey you're familiar like my mirror years ago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How can she be expected to continue like everything is fine when everything is different now? In one conversation he shifted her whole world, tilted it on its axis until finding her footing was impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "From Eden" by Hozier

 

 

"You're upset."

 

Swallowing and trying her very best not to give herself away, River rolls over in her bed to meet his gaze.  "What makes you say that?"

 

John lies in his own bed across the room, huddled under his blankets in an attempt to stay warm.  He looks at her with those wide puppy eyes, and with every passing day she finds it more and more difficult to distinguish if she would rather slap him or snog him.

 

"You've been avoiding me."

 

River blinks, feigning innocence as she points out, "I'm right here."

 

John shakes his head, giving her a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.  "Not really.  Ever since we talked about Kovarian you've been, I dunno...gone."

 

He isn't wrong, but she would rather cut out her own tongue before she admitted it out loud.  It's just...how can she be expected to continue like everything is fine when everything is different now?  In one conversation he shifted her whole world, tilted it on its axis until finding her footing was impossible.

 

Before, River knew only one reality.  Madame was her guardian, her savior from a hellish life on Gallifrey.  She had one purpose- to end the life of the Gallifreyan heir so that a new reign could be established and unnecessary suffering in the name of the Crown could be put to an end.  In that reality, Melody never had a home filled with people who cared for her, who grieved her once she was gone.

 

But now, everything she believed to be true seems to have been fabricated out of lies and manipulation.  If her dreams weren't enough to sway her, all River has to do is look in John's eyes and she sees it.  She sees the younger versions of them who ran through the palace and caused just enough trouble to garner the disapproval from whichever official happened to be visiting that day.  She sees how one would refuse to do anything without the other because together they were never alone.  She sees the joy, the happiness, the  _rightness_  that came with just being near one another.

 

And she sees his hearts, broken and lonely from losing the matching pair that resides in her own chest.

 

But that reality terrifies her.  It is the opposite of everything her guardian taught her, everything she has believed for as long as she can remember.  Except, that's part of the problem, isn't it?  The beginning of her life is gone, no memories whatsoever except for fleeting glimpses in her sleep which may or may not have any foundation in reality.

 

Her hearts war with her head, being pulled between Madame's reminder that Gallifreyan royalty are the finest tricksters to ever live, and the way John sometimes looks at her as if she had breathed the very life into him, his touches soft and his eyes kind.  When River finds herself thinking on it too long, trying to differentiate between the truth and the lies, she ends up falling into herself just as she has today, turning silent and feeling like nothing more than a lost little girl.

 

John pouts at her from across the room, and River decides to push it aside and save the thinking for later.  For now, she will do whatever her hearts desire. 

 

Standing, she pads across the chilled floor and slips beneath his covers.  The bed is small, leaving hardly any room and forcing her to be pressed flush against John's lanky frame.  His arms wrap around her, and she slides her cold fingers beneath the hem of his shirt to be warmed by his skin.  Her hearts lift, her worries and confusion seeming to dissipate as if he is her own personal drug.

 

Tucking her head against his chest, River closes her eyes and asks, "Better?"

 

She can feel the content smile that crosses his face as John affirms, "Better."

 

XxX

 

John's eyes follow River's movements as she bends in front of the vanity, looking into the dingy mirror as she applies lipstick from a copper tube.  The stolen dress she wears is not one he has seen before, simple, but rich in its deep maroon color, and clinging to her shape in a way that makes him want to run his hands over every inch of her.

 

His eyes drift without his permission, coming to a stop at her bum as he asks, "When do you think we'll leave?"

 

River stands, giving a fluff to her curls.  "Tomorrow, I imagine."  She turns to him with a smile.  "But tonight I have plans."

 

John is surprised to feel jealousy gnawing at his hearts, trying to keep the scowl from his face as he wonders who exactly she has plans with and what exactly they're going to be doing with her dressed like that.

 

Not meeting her gaze, he offers, "You look very nice," hating himself a bit when he hears the jealous edge in his voice.

 

River moves to stand before him, placing her finger under his chin and tilting his head up until he is looking at her.  "You're an idiot," she responds with a fond smile.  "I meant  _we_  have plans.  I'm taking you out."

 

John gapes at her while his brain tries to catch up with her words.  "We're going out?  Like a date?"

 

A light flush steals across her cheeks.  " _No_ , not like a date."

 

Ignoring her words, he leaps to his feet.  "You didn't even give me time to steal anything nice to wear!"

 

River scoffs, placing her hands on her hips.  "If I had, you would've had a date with a jail cell instead."

 

His grins, lightly tapping his finger to her nose.  "So it  _is_  a date."

 

She glares.  "I hate you."

 

"You don't," he answers without thought, smoothing out his button down shirt and tweaking his bow tie.  "How do I look?"

 

River's eyes drift down his form, but he doesn't have time to fidget under her scrutiny before she replies, "Amazing."

 

John beams.  "I'd better be."

 

She laughs, slipping her arm through his.  "Yes, you'd better be."

 

John isn't sure what he expects, maybe some place swanky and elegant that matches the general essence of Hallelujah.  But when River drags him by the hand down a dark alleyway, he suspects whatever awaits them is likely to be anything but.

 

To his delight, John finds his assumption to be entirely wrong.  The tavern River pulls him into has plenty of swank, deep red curtains draping down the smooth stone walls, oil lamps held in elaborate sconces, and waiters dressed to the nines, carrying trays full of alarmingly colorful alcoholic beverages.  As opposed to what one would normally expect to find in such an environment, the energy is high, patrons full of giddy chatter and unrestrained laughter as they dance and eat and drink.

 

The evening passes mostly in line dances that would be considered something of the past on Gallifrey, partners lining across from one another to meet and switch in the middle.  They're fairly simple to pick up on, but that doesn't stop him from stepping on a number of toes, much to River's amusement.

 

"You're terrible at this," River says with a fond smile as they meet, one hand at his shoulder and the other clutched in his.

 

Glaring playfully, John pinches her waist where his other hand rests, causing her to miss a step as she squirms away with a laugh.  He gives her a smug grin.  "Now we're terrible together."

 

Her response is lost as the dance forces them to switch partners, but he's pretty sure it was something along the lines of ' _Bastard.'_

 

Even when he finds himself with a partner who bats her lashes prettily at him, John finds that he has eyes for River alone.  Not that he's surprised.  He's fallen completely head over heels for her. 

 

It's then, as he searches the crowd for River, trying to figure out when the dance will bring them back together, that the bartender catches his eye.  Empty glass and cloth in hand, the man is focused on one patron alone, his stare icy and unsettling.  Following his gaze, John finally spots that head of wild curls, his brows knitting together as he glances back at the bartender.

 

It's confusing and distracting, but the moment River is back in his arms, the bartender becomes the last thing on his mind.  Her smile is bright, her cheeks flushed, and she presses against him in a way that is far too close to be considered proper in Hallelujah.  John smiles fondly at her, not paying a bit of attention to his steps as he sweeps a curl behind her ear.

 

River's eyes flutter closed as she leans into his touch.  It comes time to switch again, but John tightens his grip to keep her with him, arms wrapping around her waist and leading her into a gentle sway.

 

"I don't think this is part of the dance, darling," she murmurs, one hand at his shoulder and the other sliding into the hair at the back of his head as he buries his face by her neck.

 

"It is now," John answers, ignoring the grumbling from the other guests who are forced maneuver around them.

 

Feeling a bit bold, he puckers his lips ever so slightly against the skin of River's neck- just one small kiss to alleviate the tension building within him.  He can feel her double pulse under his lips, and some alarm goes off in his head, but is completely ignored as River gives a small gasp that sends warmth flooding through him.

 

Taking that as permission, John hauls her flush against him with one arm, using his opposite hand to sweep back her mass of curls as he trails his lips up her throat.  River shudders when he flicks out his tongue to taste the skin just under the line of her jaw, the fingers in his hair tightening and her body arching against his.

 

"John," she whispers as he presses a lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth, just close enough to tease.

 

"Tell me what you want, dear," he demands softly, lips moving over the round apple of her cheek.

 

"You know what I want," River answers breathlessly.

 

Pulling back just far enough to look her in the eye, John is surprised to find that  _yes,_  he does know what she wants.  It's there, in her eyes that he sees it.   From day one there has been a wall between them, one that she never fails rebuild whenever he is so lucky to chip away at it.  But now it seems she has taken it down herself, and the pure want in her eyes causes his hearts to nearly leap from his chest.

 

John doesn't know what has brought on the sudden change, but he does know that he would be an idiot to waste the moment that may never come again.

 

His hands cup her neck, thumbs resting at her cheeks as he leans forward and prepares to kiss her until she can no longer remember her own name.  John's lips hover over hers, River's eyes fall shut, and then-

 

" _Fire_!"

 

The screech is followed by several other screams, immediately startling River and John apart.  The guests begin to push and shove their way to the exit, John gaping at the curtain that has been set aflame.  Heat blazes through the room, and from one second to the next, River is no longer by his side.

 

"River!"  He shouts, the crowd jostling him to the point that keeping his footing becomes a difficult task.

 

After an agonizing second of searching for her, John finds her scouring the tables, stopping only when she finds a glass half filled with water.

 

Looking for the easiest spot to push through the crowd, he spots the bartender motionless behind the mahogany bar, eyes on River just as before.  A smirk crosses his face, not an ounce of fear in his eyes, and suddenly John understands.

 

"River, no!"  John yells, reaching for her though he is no where near close enough and far too late.

 

River pours the water into the cupped palm of her hand, her eyes closing briefly as she concentrates.  Then, she flings the water toward the fire.  Somewhere between her hand and the flames that have begun to spread, the water multiples, spreading like fingers of a giant hand and crashing against the burning wall.

 

The flames are extinguished, leaving the wall soaked and the scorch marks steaming.  Nothing but silence follows, all eyes on River.  John watches her, hearts in his throat as he sees her face turn to stone, obviously preparing herself for what she assumes will come next.

 

And it does, as soon as one female patron faintly accuses, " _Witch_."

 

"Get her!"  Roars the bartender.

 

As if a switch has been flipped, the guests immediately leap into action, but John moves first.  Surging forward, he grabs River's hand, grasping her fingers tightly in his and pulling her into a run.  Some screech and jump out of their path, idiotically terrified of the witch who could have easily let them burn.  Others make a grab for her, River meeting them with an elbow to the neck or a foot to the stomach.

 

Together, they push and force their way to the door, blessedly stumbling out into the cold air of the dark alley.  

 

"Come on," urges River, taking the lead as they rush down the alley hand in hand.  They weave through the back streets, obscured by shadows and buildings, slowing their pace when they run into crowds of people.  Eventually, their pursuants lose sight of them, but John knows that to assume they have given up would be a lesson in idiocy.

 

"We left everything behind, but it will be fine," River speaks hurriedly as they approach the city gate.  "We can cut over to Blackstone and acquire new supplies within a day."

 

The guards begin the process of slowly swinging open the gate, but John halts, yanking River to a stop as he remembers the string of pearls hidden away in his pack.  "We have to go back."

 

River regards him with confusion.  "Why?"

 

"I...I need to get something.  You go ahead, I'll catch up."

 

John leaps back into a sprint, butterflies flittering frantically in his stomach at the thought of leaving River behind.  When he sees the angry crowd, which seems to have grown in number, and have cliche-ly enough added a few flaming torches to the mix, John bolts down the opposite street, taking the long way to the inn just to be safe.

 

When he bursts into their room, panting for air and legs burning, John is surprised to see River standing in the middle of the space, swinging her cloak around her shoulders.

 

"You're an idiot," River hisses when she sees him, shoving his pack at his chest and giving him zero time to respond as she shoulders her own bag, takes his hand, and throws them both back into more running.

 

Flying out of the inn, they nearly crash headlong into the witch hunters, various members of the mob shouting, ' _There!_ ' and ' _Get her!_ ' 

 

It becomes quickly apparent that returning to the gate is going to be impossible.  After a hearts-stopping moment of indecision, River orders, 'This way,' and starts in the opposite direction.

 

"We can't get out of the city this way," protests John as they run, the crowd closing in at an alarming rate.

 

Giving him a smile, River states, "There's always a way out."

 

It's not until they enter Hallelujah's Town Square that he understands.  The square is home to dozens of little shops, markets and restaurants, but the most awe-inspiring attraction are the piers that extend out from the cobbled streets, high over the water below, and offering a beautiful view of the sparkling lake and mountains beyond.

 

"The water is bound to be freezing," argues John as they search for a pier that isn't overly crowded.

 

"We'll be fine, stop worrying."

 

He would protest more, but then the mob fills the square, leaving him no choice but to be dragged into her mad plan.  Feeling slightly panicked, John points to a pier at the far end that is roped off and labeled as ' _Caution:  Danger.'_

 

The gods certainly seem to have a peculiar sense of humor.  

 

Gripping his hand, River leaps into a dash.  They weave around oblivious citizens when they can, and shove past others when the crowd becomes too dense.  Enraged shouts follow as they reach the pier, but John doesn't risk a glace back as he and River duck under the cautionary rope.  Their boots clack harshly against the stone as they make their final sprint, both panting and relieved to see an end in sight.  

 

The pier has no railing to block the end, the stone crumbled away and in desperate need of repair.  River gives a slightly hysteric laugh as they near it, but John can only hear his twin heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears.  When the pier runs out from beneath his feet, what he should have noticed earlier suddenly occurs to him.

 

Earlier, in the tavern, River's pulse had been that of two hearts.  Twin heartbeats, just like his.

 

But only Gallifreyans have two hearts.

 

As they plummet swiftly to the dark lake, chilled air whipping at their clothes and hair, John looks at River and suddenly sees what should have been so painstakingly obvious all along.

 

John hits the icy water, and everything changes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and for all your lovely comments! <333


	8. no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What exactly has brought on John's sudden change of mood, River isn't sure. Perhaps she brought him a touch too close to death. Or maybe he has finally learned to fear her just like everyone else. If the thought stings, it's her own fault for so stupidly letting her guard down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Hozier's "Take Me to Church"

 

 

Blackstone is just how River remembers it from visits during her childhood.  A small, sad mining town with soot lingering perpetually in the chilly air.  She had planned to skip it entirely, but their forced exit from Hallelujah left them with their food soggied and soiled by the lake water. 

 

It could have been worse, the water had been at such a low temperature that their lungs had seized in their chests, making it difficult to drag in the faintest of breaths.  Limbs had tingled and turned numb, lips blue and frozen.  Anyone else most likely would have died, but once they blessedly found shore, River had used her Ora to warm the ground beneath them until their body temperature slowly returned to normal.

 

In their day-long travel since, John has been unusually short and distant.  He doesn't offer her kind smiles or flirt ridiculously or invade her space at every possible moment.  Instead, he keeps his distance and stews in some sort of upset silence. 

 

It is startling to find that she cares.

 

What exactly has brought on his sudden change of mood, River isn't sure.  Perhaps she brought him a touch too close to death.  Or maybe he has finally learned to fear her just like everyone else.  If the thought stings, it's her own fault for so stupidly letting her guard down.

 

Still, it eats at her, itches under her skin until it burns, and she knows relief will only come when she gets confirmation from his mouth.

 

They enter a small, one-room hut that the villagers have so kindly allowed them to stay in for the night.  With her back to John, River straightens, steeling herself before stating, "You can leave, if you prefer.  Or I can.  You can keep the map, and I'll draw the path to Karah.  It's not far, now."

 

Sometimes it feels like she has bought into her own lie.  That she is taking John to Karah to find a spaceship so he can return to his home planet.  The reality, of course, is that she is leading him to slaughter.  What terrifies her is that she is unsure if she will be able to go through with it.  Can she really place her hand on his chest, feel his hearts pound just beneath her palm, the life coursing through him, and be able to snatch it away?

 

' _You have to want it,_ ' rings Madame's words.

 

River stares at the worn, wooden wall, bottom lip trembling slightly because she _doesn't want it_.  Contrary to what she so often tries to convince herself, she does care about John.  Somehow, over the course of the past few months, he has wedged himself a nook right between her hearts and it hurts because what now?

 

The sting intensifies at the silence from the man behind her, causing her to feel oddly vulnerable.  The silence stretches, no sound but the wind gently rattling the window panes, and the soft swish of John's cloak being tossed onto the small wooden table.

 

Against her better judgement, River turns to face him, a choice she instantly regrets.  John watches her with almost the same look he has been giving her all day.  His hazel eyes are wide and wounded, full of things it seems he wants to say.  The difference lies in that the earlier anger seems to have dissipated, leaving him looking worn and defeated.

 

John hangs his head, and River feels a pang shoot through her hearts.  Perhaps he really does wish for her to leave.

 

"How did you escape Karah?"

 

His question is soft, barely audible.  Not to mention confusing.

 

Frowning, River asks, "What?"

 

"Karah," John snaps as he meets her gaze, the anger briefly flaring back up, and almost enough to make her take a step back.  "You said you escaped before the attack."

 

"Yes."

 

"Impossible."

 

Narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms defensively, River counters, "Obviously not."

 

John glares, swiftly moving to invade her space.  It feels like a threat, but she refuses to back down, standing her ground and jutting her chin out in defiance as he crowds her.  His eyes pierce, the fringe of his hair trembles, and River isn't exactly sure what is happening so she keeps her lips pressed into a thin line and waits for him to continue.

 

John pulls her arms from their crossed position, his thumbs resting on the veins at her wrists, and his grip hard enough to bruise.  She doesn't flinch.

 

"How did this happen?"  His thumbs press hard into her skin and then she understands- her Ora.  "You weren't born with it."

 

"And how do you know that?"

 

"River."  His shoulder's drop, his eyes soften, and his grip loosens.  "Please just tell me."

 

Looking at his bow tie instead of meeting his gaze, River answers, "Treatments.  The Ora was drained from the roots of a forest just northeast of here, then injected into my veins."

 

"Why you?"

 

She swallows thickly, having to force the words past her lips.  "They tried others, but they all died.  The Ora burned them from the inside out.  I was...-"

 

"Different," John finishes, looking at her as if understands exactly.  Not that he has any clue.

 

Dropping his gaze to her wrists, he rubs smooth, comforting circles over her skin.  "Did it hurt?"

 

For a moment, River thinks of lying before finally answering, "Yes."

 

Her face is expressionless, the complete opposite from the broken pain written across John's face as he looks at her.

 

"How could they do this?"  His question isn't for her, just a soft whisper for the answer to hang lost in the air between them.

 

River frowns, wondering where all of this is suddenly coming from.  Her fingers reach up to comb softly through John's hair as she comforts, "It's fine."

 

If anything, he only looks more distressed.  "It's not _fine_."

 

She huffs out a laugh.  "Well I'm alive, aren't I?"

 

Silence follows her words, John looking at her as if he is seeing her for the first time.  Then, a brilliant smile begins to dawn across his face.  Tears spring to his eyes and a laugh is pulled from his throat as he wraps his arms tightly around her waist, lifts her from the floor, and spins her in a circle. 

 

"You're alive!"  John repeats in exclamation as he sets her back on her feet, River clinging to his shoulders.

 

"What has gotten into you?"  River asks with a laugh of her own, confused but finding herself enjoying the moment all the same.

 

"You," John answers, a breath-taking smile covering his face.  "I had fallen so hard before, but now- _now_ , gods!"  His hands cup her neck, thumbs sweeping across the apples of her cheeks.  "You're alive, and you're _you_ , and it's more than I could have ever possibly..."  His words trail off, tears filling his eyes again despite his face-splitting grin.

 

"I think you must be getting sick, John," River states, laughter lining her voice because the man's energy is contagious.  "You're not making any sen-"

 

The end of her sentence is lost in a muffle as John crashes his lips to hers.  Even in her surprise, River returns the kiss on instinct, her eyes falling shut and her fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt.  She had expected this, _wanted_  this, for some time now.  It was in the way he began to look at her, how his touches lingered, and how his eagerness to return to his home had been replaced with something else.  She would have been daft not to notice, and even dafter not realize the traitors that her hearts have become.

 

It feels like she has given in all too easily, a happy sigh escaping her as John sweeps his tongue into her mouth and tangles his fingers into her curls.   _This doesn't have to mean anything_ , River attempts to convince herself, but even as the thought crosses her mind she knows it is foolish one.

 

John breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against hers and his breath coming in soft pants against her cheek.  With one small peck of his lips to hers, he pulls back slightly and speaks, "You can come back with me- to our home.  Or...or I can just stay here!"

 

John's smile is wide, his eyes distant as he thinks on the possibilities.  River's hearts suddenly clench fearfully in her chest as the cogs in her mind slowly begin to click into place.  Swallowing thickly, she takes a half step back.

 

John frowns, taking her hands in his.  "What is it?"

 

He has been looking at her differently all day, as if he had been blinded and now he _sees_.  There was anger, hurt, confusion, relief, and ' _our home.'_

 

River jerks her hands from his grasp, her blood chilling as she takes a step back.   The wall she builds between them with her sudden actions feels just as real as if it were solid and physical before her.

 

"You know," she accuses, and why is it that she is the one who feels betrayed?

 

Watching her warily, as if he is afraid she'll turn around and run at the wrong word, John asks, "Know what?"

 

"Don't play games with me, John," River snaps, feeling oddly vulnerable.

 

He swallows, his fingers twitching as if he wants to reach for her but thinks better of it.  "I figured it out.  In Hallelujah."

 

Her hearts pick up pace, River forcing herself to breathe steadily through her nose as she tries not to panic, but this changes _everything_. 

 

"How?"

 

"What?"

 

" _How?_ "  She repeats with a bite, her patience too worn to elaborate.

 

"Two hearts," John answers, a small smile twitching at his lips.  "Only Gallifreyans have two hearts."

 

River says nothing, feeling as if she has been stripped of her carefully crafted armor to be left standing naked and defenseless before him.  This wasn't supposed to happen.  Not now, not ever.

 

"I didn't believe it at first," John continues in her silence.  "But the more I looked at you, the more obvious it became.  You're supposed to be _dead_  and..."  His words trail off, the smile that had been growing on his face suddenly dropping, as if he has realized something he wishes he hadn't.

 

John's barely-existent eyebrows knit together in upset confusion as he suddenly demands, "You _knew_?"

 

Again, she remains silent, surprised to find the wall at her back as he crowds her once again, his hazel eyes dark and blazing as they bore into hers. 

 

When he speaks again, his voice is low, angry, and full of accusation.  "This whole time you knew who you were to me and you didn't say _anything_?  I thought...I thought you just didn't remember, that you had been Slated- it would make sense- _but you knew_."

 

"And who exactly am I to you, John?"  Her voice is barely more than a whisper, her face expressionless as she feels suddenly detached from the situation, it all feeling a bit surreal.

 

The way his face falls, one would think her words had been daggers.

 

"If you have to ask, then it doesn't matter."

 

John moves then, turning from her and stepping away.  The space he leaves behind doesn't bring relief.

 

Shoving his cloak to the floor, John opens the small drawer attached to the underside of the table, pulling out the fountain pen stored there and holding it out to her.  He doesn't look at her, and River resents that he is going to make her ask what in the bloody hell he wants her to do with a sodding pen.

 

Regardless, she steps forward and takes it from his grasp, determinedly ignoring the slight shake of her fingers.  "Now what?"

 

When he meets her gaze, River is startled to see his expression cool and fixed.  It's a far cry from the warmth and affection that had lit his face only moments ago, and she hates herself a bit for letting it hurt her.

 

"You said you would draw me the path to Karah."

 

Oh.  Right.

 

River nods woodenly, her movements automatic as she pulls the map from her bag and unrolls it onto the smooth surface of the table. 

 

 _I could stop him_ , she thinks as she presses the pen to the parchment just a bit too forcefully, the dark ink blotching out and bleeding onto the map in a thick blob.

 

 _It wouldn't take much_.

 

The side of her hand gently sweeps down the map, forming a path from Blackstone and out of the Providence Mountains entirely.

 

_'You're right- I have no memories, only stories. Please...help me remember.'_

 

The pen drags across a small forest- a bit of difficult terrain, but safer than passing through the unwelcoming village that sits just to the east.

 

 _No,_ River forces herself to think, her lips turning down in a small frown as she completes the path to Demon's Run, the harbor that rests on the coast of the sea separating them from Karah.  She doesn't need to explain herself, to beg him to understand.  What she _needs_  is to get him to Karah.  Doesn't matter how, just that she does.  Soon, her purpose will be fulfilled and this whole ridiculous mess will be behind her.

 

It will be easier this way.

 

River rolls the map and places it in John's outstretched hand.

 

"When you get to Demon's Run, all you'll have to do is secure a spot on a ship to Karah.  Don't get scammed and don't agree to join the crew in exchange for passage- you could find yourself chained below deck to a bench and oar for life."

 

John huffs out a humorless laugh as he slides the map into his pack.  "How exactly do I get someone to agree to take me, then?"

 

Taking out their small pouch of coin from her bag, River tosses it onto the table.  "It should be enough."

 

He nods silently, taking the pouch and depositing it inside one of the small inner pockets of his pack.  John freezes then, staring at the inside of his bag.  River watches him in confusion, surprised when he carefully pulls out a string of dark green pearls. 

 

After a brief moment of contemplation, he tosses them carelessly onto the table and answers her silent questions.  "I traded my cuff links for them in Albaj.  Thought they would look lovely on you."  A smile twists at his lips as he closes his pack and grabs his cloak from the floor.  "Stupid.  Could probably trade them for a bit of coin, though."

 

Idiotically, tears begin to prick at her eyes that she immediately forces away.  It's just a stupid necklace.  Something material and superficial, but it feels like _more_.  Like it's all his affection strung nice and neat and ready to be handed over- kept safely stowed away and protected from burning buildings, witch hunters, and freezing lakes, just waiting for the moment to be carefully placed in her possession.

 

John fastens his cloak and shoulders his pack, taking a step toward the door as River silently panics. 

 

Everything within her is at war.  For as long as she can remember, it has been her purpose to take the life of the man now preparing to leave her.  It would be easier this way.  Let him walk out the door, guide himself right into the trap that has spent years in preparation.  Time alone will give the cut that will come with him choosing to leave her an opportunity to fester and deepen until she feels nothing but bitterness and resentment.  Then maybe, when the time comes, taking his life won't be as impossible as it seems right now.  

 

Except, for as much as she tries to convince herself otherwise, River knows that it will always be impossible.  Everything is so different from the day John crash-landed into her life.  She believed everything she had been taught, believed every word that had been drilled into her brain about Gallifrey, about John, and about the childhood she can't remember.

 

In John, she sees that everything she believed to be true had been rooted in a bed of lies.  Now that she knows, there is no going back.  And yet, River finds it difficult to move forward because _what now_?

 

With a trembling hand, River pulls out a chair and sits, feeling overwhelmed and lost.  The feeling is a familiar one, but not one she is capable of linking to a specific memory.  Taking a steadying breath, River closes her eyes and presses her fingertips to her lips.  She may not remember who she is supposed to be to John, but she _knows_ \- sees it in the way he smiles at her and feels it in the way her hearts trip in response.  No amount of lies or manipulation can change it, and she doesn't need fleeting glimpses in dreams or spoken confirmation to know that she is his.  He is hers.

 

Bespoke.

 

When she reopens her eyes, River sees John standing before the door, his head hung low and his hand gripping the doorknob.  Her hands curl around the edge of the table, her fingers pressing hard into the wooden surface as she tries to will away the vulnerability that seems to be rolling off her in waves.

 

Straightening, John twists the doorknob, and in that instant it feels like the future flashes before her eyes.  Him leaving, stumbling through the rest of his journey to Karah.  Madame finding him, jailing him in the UnderCity while she basks in his confusion, his anger, his fear.  It ending with John dead, Madame victorious, and River alone.

 

"Don't."

 

Her voice sounds harsh as it breaks the thick silence.  She doesn't remember making the decision to stand, but she is, her arm half stretched toward him as if she can grab him by his cloak and force him to stay.

 

Wearily, John turns to her, hand dropping to his side.

 

"Don't what?"

 

"Don't leave."

 

John sighs heavily, and the absence of his smile stings.

 

"And what would you have me do instead, River?"

 

A tone of weary disbelief laces his words, as if her request is too ridiculous to even think on.  As if he has already made up his mind and refuses to contemplate any alternative.  But his hazel eyes are soft, sad, and River knows he likes the idea of leaving just about as much as she does.

 

"You could kiss me," River suggests, and while she aims for nonchalant, she misses the mark.  It sounds like the plea that is it, heavy with everything she wants to tell him but refuses to admit aloud just yet.

 

His eyes warm in understanding, and River hates herself a bit for being so transparent.  John's shoulders drop, a ghost of his usual smile crossing his lips.  She isn't sure what it is that convinces him to step toward her instead of out the door, but she is relieved that whatever it is, it is enough.

 

His pack drops to the ground, cloak following, and this time when he crowds her space it is less threatening than before.  John hooks a curl behind her ear, letting out an exasperated sigh as he states, "This doesn't mean I'm not upset."

 

River smiles, her hearts feeling lighter as she grabs him by his braces to pull him so that his lips are hovering only a breath away. 

 

"Noted."

 

Her eyes fall closed, relief mixing with the anticipation that sizzles under her skin like sparks from the beginnings of a fire.  John cups her cheek with his palm, and when his lips finally press to hers, those sparks roar into fire that engulfs her entirely. 

 

The kiss is anything but soft and hesitant.  It is greedy, devouring, and demanding.  John moves his fingers to bury in her curls, and as he kisses her harder, River can taste the desperation on his tongue.  It causes a foreign, giddy feeling to bubble in her chest, and she pulls out of the kiss with a soft laugh. 

 

"I'm not going anywhere."

 

His hands fall to her waist, those wide hazel eyes locking with hers, and she can tell that there is so much he wants to say, so many questions he wants to ask.  She owes him the whole truth- Kovarian, her purpose, and the fact that she actually doesn't have any of her memories from their time as children.  That time will come, but right now her hearts are thundering from his kisses and she _needs_  him.

 

John's eyes warm, and he answers simply, "I know."

 

This time when he kisses her, it is soft, slow, and filled with an unhurried passion that fills her stomach with a tingling heat.  It leaves her breathless and pleasantly compliant as John walks her backward until she is pressed against the wall.  River hums her approval, closing her eyes as she anticipates another kiss.  Instead, John goes for her neck, his teeth sinking into the skin of her throat.  She gasps, fingers flying to clench tightly in the thick locks of his hair.  Later, she knows she will find a bright red mark exactly where his lips are now.  It is a mark of possession, and the thought alone nearly causes her knees to tremble. 

 

Patience fading, John comes up for another kiss and yanks River's blouse from the waist of her trousers.  Her tongue sweeps through his mouth, groaning when she feels his warm palm slip beneath her blouse to cup her breast.  His hips press firmly against hers, a thumb brushing her hardened nipple.  River breaks the kiss with a sharp inhale, head thudding back against the wall.  Catching a glimpse of his smug smile, she bestows him with a weak glare. 

 

"Hate you," she whispers, and grinds her hips hard against his in retaliation.

 

"No- _gods_ \- you don't," John answers as he moves his hips with hers, and the hitch in his voice sends a shiver down her spine.

 

River hikes her leg up around John's thigh, the new angle causing the bulge in his trousers to rub right at her core.  She moans, grasping at his shoulders and desperately wishing that their clothes were already removed.  His forehead presses to hers, their lips brushing with every thrust, and their breath coming out in needy pants.

 

"Wanted you for so long," John admits on a shaky exhale.

 

"I'm all yours, sweetie," River breathes, leaning in for a swift, hard kiss.   "Now take me to bed."

 

"Gods yes," John complies, stilling his hips and reaching once again for her blouse.

 

Once their clothing has been pulled and yanked and carelessly thrown to the floor, John spreads River out on the small bed and covers her body with his.  When he presses into her, the earlier image she had of him dead at Madame's feet vanishes, leaving only stars behind.

 

XxX

 

Melody Pond lies tangled in his arms, fast asleep.  Her head rests on his chest, the moonlight streaming through the window to tint her honey curls with silver.  One arm lies draped across him, her fingers curling at his waist in a way that suggests possession even in sleep.  John smiles.

 

Melody Pond.

 

River Song.

 

He had been absolutely daft to not make the connection until now.  Perhaps it was just something his brain refused to acknowledge until it became too much to go unnoticed.  After all, he thought she was long dead.

 

The day Melody disappeared is one he remembers all too well.  The Gallifreyan sun had been well past midday, but not yet far enough in the sky to be considered evening.  John had settled himself on a small bench in the palace garden, his legs swinging impatiently as he waited on Melody.  After an half an hour passed without her, it had been tempting to go in search of her, but usually that ended with her entering the garden just as he exited, and their time ultimately being wasted.   

 

That day had been the final civil negotiation between his father and Kovarian, their discussion kept locked behind the large wooden doors of the War Room.  The War had been something neither John or Melody really understood, Orenda the one suffering the brunt of the consequences.  Still, the presence of Kovarian had always unnerved them, and the further away they were from her and her eyepatch, the better.

 

Hours had passed with him waiting on that bench.  The sun had been setting when John saw Kovarian's spacecraft rise above the silver trees and disappear into the sky, signalling her exit until what he thought would be the next negotiation.

 

Finally giving in, John had hopped off the bench and entered the palace.  Nothing seemed out of ordinary- servants were preparing dinner, guards were making their rounds, and John found his father still sat in the War Room, fingers massaging his temples in an attempt to relieve his headache.

 

' _Have you seen Melody?'_

 

John's father had looked up at the voice, giving his son a frown as he leaned back in his chair.

 

_'I thought she was with you.'_

 

Before John had the chance to respond, the General's wife had burst into the room, looking pale and shaken.  One look at Amelia Pond and John knew something was horribly wrong.  Her lip trembled, and her expression had been somewhere between enraged and terrified. 

 

In her hands had been Melody's favorite teddy bear.   One of its eyes had been covered with an eyepatch.

 

After that, his father lived and breathed the War until Karah was left in flames, and while the end was a relief for many, it extinguished whatever hopes John had of ever seeing Melody again.  From then on, everything was different.  His father spent most of his time holed away in his study, Melody's parents left to live on some planet called Earth, and John ended up alone.

 

He still ran, of course.  Continued to trade meetings and diplomatic dinners for the freedom the forest offered.  Then, when he was old enough, took it a step further and began to take spacecrafts for reckless adventures in the dead of night.

 

John would have never dreamed he would find himself on Orenda.  Just hearing the planet's name spoken aloud made his throat close up and his eyes water.  As far as he was concerned, the planet was nothing more than a grave.

 

But here he is.  And here _she_  is.

 

His savior, his guide.  John glances down at bare skin covered only by a thin sheet, a light blush coloring his cheeks.  His lover.

 

River Song, with her wicked smiles and penchant for trouble, had destroyed the years-old barrier that had been built around his hearts in a matter of moments.  Now that he knows who she is, it is easy to understand why.  

 

Despite his best efforts, John cannot ignore the uncomfortable knot in his chest that tightens whenever remembering that River intentionally kept her identity from him.  What was her plan?  Take him to Karah and send him back to Gallifrey without a word?

 

And why hadn't she tried to get home before?  Why did she choose to stay?

 

Maybe she didn't want to return to Gallifrey.  Melody had been snatched away in the clear light of day.  He should have been there, but he wasn't.  Those thoughts were always something he struggled with, the guilt weighing him down until some days it felt impossible to breathe.  Perhaps River aims the blame in the same direction.

 

The moment he realized River knew exactly who she was, who _he_  was, John's first instinct had been to run- a habit he makes more often than he cares to admit.  He had felt stunned and betrayed, and coming face-to-face with the realization that she had made the conscious decision to ignore their past was almost more than he could bear.

 

It seemed that after all this time of him wishing to have her back, she had wanted nothing more than to forget about him. 

 

Though, that must not be entirely true.  Not with her lying pressed against him now.

 

John sighs, his fingertips circling River's bare shoulder as he pushes away the thoughts for another time.  There is hardly any use in dwelling on the past, so for now he closes his eyes and drifts back into sleep.  The morning will bring time for questions, which hopefully will be accompanied by the answers he is so desperately seeking.

 

Except, when morning does come, it isn't at all what John expects- the light of dawn filtering through the small window to wake them, River stretching under the sheets as she gives him a sleepy smile, a kiss stolen before the sun has a chance to fully rise.

 

Instead, the loud crash of the wooden door being kicked down jolts him awake.  John bolts into sitting position, immediately reaching for River but finding the bed empty next to him.  It isn't unusual- she prefers to do her thievery in the pre-dawn hush of morning, when everything and everyone is still asleep and unaware.  Suddenly it is a habit he finds he wishes she would drop.

 

Three men clad in black enter the room, and John grips the sheet in the abandoned space next to him in an attempt to quell the thundering of his hearts.

 

"Wakey, wakey, Prince," calls a deep, male voice.

 

The dust from the broken door begins to settle, and John feels his blood run cold as he gets his first good look at the intruders.

 

The man who spoke takes a step further into the hut, his teeth gleaming in an unfriendly smile, and the eyepatch he wears labeling him like a brand.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> (thanks for reading <3)


	9. still rising toward the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It feels like her life had previously been lived blindfolded, Madame guiding her and describing the world through her own eyes instead of allowing River to see for herself. But the blindfold is gone now, not ripped off by her own hands, but carefully removed by the man she left snoring contentedly in their shared bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Idina Menzel's "Small World"
> 
> Warning: There is some violence in this chapter!

 

 

It is the peak of the winter season, and while Blackstone brings a bite of chill and a thin layer of ice, it is far enough south to escape being layered in snow.  River counts it lucky that their travels have taken them out of the heavy snow her cottage should be getting this time of year.  To trudge through such conditions would bring only misery.

 

River hums happily as she walks through the sleepy village, the ice-covered dirt crunching beneath her boots.  Right now she is the opposite of miserable, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the favorable weather conditions and everything to do with the besotted smile pushing at her cheeks.

 

It feels like her life had previously been lived blindfolded, Madame guiding her and describing the world through her own eyes instead of allowing River to see for herself.  But the blindfold is gone now, not ripped off by her own hands, but carefully removed by the man she left snoring contentedly in their shared bed.

 

When she thinks on it too long, it all becomes a bit overwhelming.  This is a choice she is making- _has made_.  It is exchanging her given purpose to find a new one of her own.  Fear quivers deep within her soul as she thinks of so blatantly turning on Madame.  In her life, to disobey always brought the harshest of consequences.  To become a traitor will likely bring wrath unlike River has ever seen, but even the pure terror that grips her as she thinks of what could happen is not enough to stop her.

 

John is her home now.  Not Orenda, not Madame, not Gallifrey.  And River refuses to be taken from her home again. 

 

Her pack is full, stuffed to the brim with goods that she didn't even have to steal- except for the bit of coin she took from Blackstone's poorly secured investment bank, but honestly, it was hardly enough to matter. 

 

She was given food and a warm blanket from an elderly villager, and while River wondered at such kindness, she wasn't dense enough to refuse.  So now, her pack is filled with needed food, and the coin pouch has enough to secure a night's stay in Demon's Run as well as what will be needed to acquire passage to Karah.  While Karah could be potentially dangerous, River knows it truly is their best shot at finding a spacecraft.  If the gods are on their side- which they rarely are- it is her hope that they can leave Orenda without have to confront Madame at all.

 

The sun is about an hour in the sky when River returns to their hut, a smile twitching at her lips as she imagines how John will be cross with her for leaving him once again.  Perhaps this time she can kiss his complaints away until he is nothing but putty in her arms.

 

The dream is fleeting, however.  Dashed entirely as she nears the hut to find the door kicked in.  For a moment River is only confused, stepping over the door and into the small space.

 

"John?"

 

No response, and it is clear to see that she stands alone in the hut.  Her hearts begin to thunder in her chest as she takes in her surroundings.  The bed is skewed against the wall, the sheets crumpled haphazardly on the floor.  The small wooden table is overturned, one of its matching chairs laying in broken pieces on the opposite end of the room.  The small window is broken, the glass that remains in the frame jagged and sharp.

 

Hearts in her throat, River steps closer to the window, the cold wind ruffling her curls and the glass on the floor getting crushed beneath her boots.  Blood stains the window sill and the surrounding broken shards as if someone had attempted to escape through it.  They failed, River concludes, eyeing a streak of blood that starts from beneath the window and fades toward the door, as if the person had been dragged against their will.

 

She isn't one hundred percent sure what happened here, but if her guess is anywhere near the truth, she needs to be leaving immediately.  Forcing aside the worry that is nearly strangling her, River grabs John's pack and slings it over her shoulder with her own.  The green pearls from the day before lay near the broken door, catching her eye.  A fond smile twitches at her lips as she picks them up, relieved to see them unharmed.  Allowing herself only a moment, River clasps the pearls around her neck, the weight of them at her collarbone feeling foreign, but comforting.

 

With one last glance around the hut, River exits and doesn't bother looking back.  Instead, she turns to the sky, and a chill is sent down her spine as her suspicions are confirmed.  In the distance is a small, black speck circling over the forest that separates her from Demon's Run.  From years of watching that bird, River knows it belongs to Madame.

 

Immediately, River sprints into a run, the packs thumping at her back and her hair flying behind her.  She doubts Madame has made the journey herself, a few henchmen probably sent for the job, but that fails to put her at ease.  John is in trouble.

 

 _John is in trouble_.

 

The idiot probably doesn't even understand just how much danger he is in.  Though, from the destroyed state of the hut, maybe he does.  Her hearts clench.  She should have been there, she could have stopped this.

 

Refusing to let her mind wander too far down that dark path, she focuses instead on what she must do to get him back.  From the messenger bird's position, they seem to only be about an hour out.  There are shortcuts she can take, paths she can make herself to cut them off.  If she varies her pace in order to avoid resting entirely, it is possible she can catch up to them by midday.

 

John is hers now, just as she is his.  And River has never dealt well with others taking what belongs to her.

 

XxX

 

The canopy of the trees become too thick for John to follow the sun, but the light filtering through the leaves directly above him tells him it must be around noon.  He sighs, feeling weary, though he has only been travelling for a few hours.

 

His hands are bound at his back by coarse rope, and two eyepatch men flank either side of him, their grips uncomfortably tight on his arms.  The head eyepatch man leads in front, an irritating dance to his step as he whistles happily.  A bit childishly, John hopes the man trips and falls flat on his face.  If he can't escape, he could at least do with a laugh.

 

And escape he has tried.  Three times, to be exact. 

 

Back in the hut, after the men ordered him to dress- which he did with painstaking slowness as he tried to calm his hearts and figure a way out- a scuffle had ensued as he attempted to break through the window.  It had been close, John overturning the table on one man, throwing a chair at another, and delivering a swift kick right between the third man's legs.  Still, he hadn't been fast enough, and received a rather nasty gash on his forearm for his trouble.

 

The second time had been about two hours into their journey, the men holding onto him having loosened their grip over time.  It was surprisingly easy to break away, but unexpectedly difficult to run with his arms bound.  They had him tackled to the ground in seconds.

 

The third time was only minutes ago, and not so much an attempt to escape as him just being deliberately difficult.  With their grip so tight on his arms, John had decided to stop walking entirely, his knees dropping and he feet dragging along the ground.  If they wanted to take him to wherever so badly, then they could bloody well drag him.  Except, it didn't go exactly as he had hoped.

 

 _"Think you're above walking, Your Majesty?"_   One had asked, the title he bestowed full of ridicule.

 

The other man had grinned maliciously.   _"Doesn't bother us, Your Highness."_

 

And with that, the two men had repositioned their grip to hold onto the ropes at John's hands.  John had been nearly face down in the dirt, excruciating pain radiating from his shoulders as soon as the men began to drag him, them walking in front and John's arms angled in a way his shoulders wouldn't allow for long.

 

When he gave in, the men had made John beg for them to stop.  It was humiliating and degrading, their snickers and snide comments continuing long after John had righted himself.

 

Feeling defeated, John silently decides not to try again.  At least for now.

 

"Where are we going?"  John asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.

 

The man to his left gives another snicker, and the one to his right offers a gleeful grin. 

 

The man in front turns around, a smirk at his lips.  "You'll find out soon enough, Prince.  We would hate to ruin the surprise."

 

The retort at John's tongue dies before it has the chance to leave his mouth, the ground beneath their feet giving a sudden low, unsettling rumble.

 

The four of them come to a halt, birds flitting from the nearby trees to escape into the sky.  The earth silences, and John looks around with wide eyes as he takes in the sudden hush.  They are currently in a dip in the path, the road stretching upwards to the front and back of them, and the forest thick on either side, making it difficult to see anything at all.

 

"Keep moving," barks the man in front.

 

The two men next to John push him forward a step, and the earth gives another angry rumble.  The air feels charged with...he isn't exactly sure what, but it tingles at his skin and puts him at ease.  The others, however, seem to be experiencing a different feeling altogether.

 

The man to his right looks pale and ashen as his eyes dart around.  The man to his left is having difficulty controlling his trembling lip, his voice shaky as he whispers, "Sir...I think it's-"

 

"She wouldn't."  The man in front snaps, but his voice lacks conviction.

 

Suddenly, John recognizes the feeling.  It was in his sleep when River forced him into a slumber, in the air whenever she started a fire with a wave of her hand, tingling at his back as the ground beneath him warmed his near-frozen body after escaping Hallelujah. 

 

It's Ora.  More specifically, _River's_  Ora.

 

A grin creeps its way up John's face, all of his worries suddenly vanishing.  These idiots have no idea what they've gotten themselves into.

 

Behind them, a calm, cool voice speaks, "Oh, I think you'll find she most definitely _would_."

 

The four of them whirl, John's face lighting up while the others nearly take a step back.  River stands at the top of the path, her curls wild around her face and her expression as smooth as stone.

 

As she descends into the small valley, the leader pushes past John and his two henchmen, a snarl on his face.  "What is the meaning of this, witch?  We're doing you a _favor_ and-"

 

River grabs the man's jaw in her hand, effectively cutting off his words as she gives an icy glare.  "He's _mine_."

 

She releases him, and the man narrows his eyes, whispering accusingly, "You're a _traitor_."

 

From one moment to the next, the leader unsheathes a rather nasty looking dagger and lunges.  John gasps, and is held back as the two men on either side of him tighten their grip.  River is fast, though, ducking the man's sloppy attempt and shoving her hands into the dirt at her feet.

 

The earth rumbles as it did before, and the leader stands no chance as a thick tree root bursts forth from the ground, dirt flying in all directions.  The root moves as if it is alive, as if its goal is vengeance, and wraps tightly around the man's throat.  The dagger drops to the ground, the leader sputtering and failing to drag in air as he clutches desperately at the root.  His face turns purple, his eyes bulge in their sockets, and his feet are lifted just far enough above the ground that his shoes kick up dirt and dust in his struggle.

 

It's horrifying to watch, but John can't seem to look away.  The henchmen stare on with him, their mouths gaping in silent horror.  Then, River commands the root to strangle impossibly tighter, the faintest hint of a smile on her face as the sickening sound of crunching bone echoes in the space around them.

 

She stands then, her hands covered in dirt, the root falling lifeless, and the deadman dropping to the ground.  As she turns, locking her gaze onto the henchmen, the two men suddenly release John as if he burned to the touch.

 

"We didn't harm him."

 

River's eyes flick once over John, taking in his dirt-smudged clothes and the scrapes on his face from being tackled to the ground.  As if already knowing exactly what she will find, she moves a few steps to the side, crooking her head to get a look at the open gash on John's forearm.

 

"Doesn't look that way to me," River comments simply as she returns her attention to the two men.

 

"Just take him," pleads the one who spoke before.

 

The other nods along, taking a step back as if knowing no amount of begging is going to change his fate.

 

"Too late, I'm afraid."

 

There is a beat of silence, River watching them expectantly, the two men regarding her with open fear in their eyes, and John too stunned to do much more than watch.  Then, a disbelieving laugh bubbles from his throat.

 

His River, his Melody, stands before them looking like some fearsome, unforgiving god, fire in her eyes and Ora practically sparking from her fingertips.  It should scare him, should send pure, unadulterated terror shooting down his spine.  Instead, he finds a smitten grin pushing at his cheeks because he is totally, irrevocably in love.

 

John huffs out another laugh, his grin now bordering on smug as he addresses the henchmen.  "Better start running."

 

A smile quirks at River's lips, her eyes fixed on the two men like a lioness preparing to pounce.  She _wants_  them to run.

 

And they do, both men tearing their terrified gaze away to stumble over each other and scramble up the steep path.  They stand no chance, however, River crouching to thrust her hands into the earth once more.  The rumble that comes is louder than before, sounding almost eager as the ground shakes beneath their feet.

 

This time, when the roots rupture forth, there are too many to count.  They burst from the ground at the top of the path, forming a solid front and arching over the two men like an ocean wave.  The sight is awe inspiring, and John is unable to look away as the roots crash over the men and bury back into the earth, sealing the bodies between root and dirt.

 

The world stills, John staring at the now root-covered path.  If he didn't witness it himself, he would have never believed two dead men lied underneath.

 

When he turns, he finds River just finishing dragging the leader's body into the thick brush of the forest.  She stands, wiping her brow of sweat and leaving behind dark streaks from the dirt covering her hands.  Swiping up the dagger from where it fell, River moves to free him of his ties.

 

As she slices through the rope in one swift motion, she asks, "Are you okay?"

 

Now free, John turns to her, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to relieve the deep ache.

 

"I'm fine."  He cups her face, searching her gaze intently.  "I'm more concerned about you."

 

River sighs contentedly at his touch, her eyes briefly falling shut as her fingers curl into the material of his cloak.  "I'm fine now that you're safe."

 

Leaning forward, John bestows a kiss to her brow.  He smiles.  "You were pretty scary just now, you know?"

 

"Too scary?"

 

"The perfect amount, actually."

 

Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, River asks, "It doesn't bother you?"

 

"Well, it's not as if there was much of a choice."

 

"There's always a choice, John.  I could have just as easily put them to sleep."  She pauses, then admits, "I wanted them dead."

 

John sighs patiently, as if she had done something like stolen more coin instead of murdered three men right before his eyes.  A fond smile crosses his lips. 

 

"Love a bad girl, me."

 

XxX

 

The nights have become too cold for them to comfortably spend outside, so they trek the rest of the way to Demon's Run without stop.  It is full dark by the time they arrive to the bustling port, River doubly exhausted from the journey and the expenditure of energy that came with using her Ora.  All she can think about is falling into a nice, warm bed, but there are things that must be tended to first.

 

John flops face down onto the bed the moment they find an open room in one of the many noisy inns.  He groans happily, the sound muffled by a pillow.

 

"No sleep yet, Prince," River chides gently, dropping her pack and cloak and moving to fill a small basin with water.

 

The response she receives is an indistinguishable grumble.  Rolling her eyes, River sits on the bed next to John and pulls him into sitting position by the material of his shirt.  He glares weakly at her, but with his sleepy face and hair askew, it is not even close to intimidating.

 

She smiles, using her free hand to card lovingly through his hair, her hearts fluttering at the way he pushes into her touch.

 

"We need to patch up your arm."

 

John pouts.  "It's fine."

 

River snorts, dipping a cloth provided by the inn into the water.  "You need stitches, actually."

 

Suddenly wary, he asks, "So...we're going to see a medicine man, then?"

 

"Nope.  The physicians here tend to drink on the job.  Besides, who do you think would see you at this hour?"

 

River rummages through her pack, making a triumphant noise when she finds the needle and thread she keeps stowed away in the inside pocket.  She's had enough injuries in her life to always have supplies on hand.

 

Obviously inwardly panicking and trying not to show it, John's voice is a touch higher than normal as he states, "I don't know- you scared the one in Albaj into helping!"

 

Lighting a match and warming the needle over the flame, she arches a brow at him.  "I'm starting to think you have very little faith in me, John."

 

"No!  I just...I don't like needles."

 

"Perhaps you should have thought of that before attempting to climb out of a window that was too small for you to fit to begin with."

 

Dropping the match into the basin of water, River uses her now free hand to gently clean the gash on his forearm.  John swallows heavily, eyes on the needle in her other hand.  "It's not like I had much of a choice."

 

Lips pressing together against the wave of guilt that washes over her, River threads the needle and states, "Still stupid- now don't move."

 

The stitches she gives are rudimentary at best, jagged and uneven, and she knows a scar will be left behind as she carefully wraps the wound with bandaging.  Still, these combined with John's regeneration energy should have the wound healed by morning.  By the time she is finished, John is white in the face, looking ill and as if he could pass out at any moment.  River washes her hands and sets aside her supplies before positioning herself on the bed beside him, watching him with concern. 

 

"Okay?"

 

"'Course!  I'm always okay- I'm the King of Okay!"

 

River snorts, barely repressing the urge to roll her eyes.  "So not okay, then?"

 

Instead of answering, his shoulders slump, and he drops his forehead to her shoulder.  She knows it's more than the stitches- it's about everything that happened today.

 

"You should get sleep," River insists, giving him a push to lie down.

 

Once their boots are kicked to the floor, all but minimal clothing is removed, and the oil lamp in the corner is extinguished, River crawls into the bed beside John.  His arms immediately reach for her, wrapping around her and pulling her into him.  She smiles, and wonders at how she has become so soft so quickly.

 

John breaks the silence that has settled, speaking into the darkness of the room, "I almost lost you today.  Again."

 

A small frown pulls at her lips.  "I think you have that backwards, darling."

 

This close to him, River can hear him swallow before he answers, "But that's what it felt like.  All I could think was I just found you and you were snatched away all over again."

 

Knowing that fear well, she presses a light kiss to his chest in an attempt to comfort.

 

After another minute of silence, John asks, "Were you scared?"

 

"Of course I was."

 

"No, not today.  I mean before...when...when you were taken."

 

He is hesitant, like he already knows the answer but just needs to hear it.  Easily, River could say _yes, of course, but it's fine now_ , but she doesn't remember anything outside of what she dreams.

 

"I don't remember," she admits.

 

John huffs.  "You don't have to- to _spare_  me, I know it must have been terrifying."

 

"No, John," River sits up, the sheet falling to her waist as she makes out his form in the darkness, barely illuminated by the oil lamp hung outside their window.  "I mean it.  I don't remember-  _anything_."

 

The sheet rustles, and she sees his shadowed figure move to sit up as well.  She can hear the confused frown in his voice as he asks, "What do you mean?"

 

Standing, the blouse she has chosen to sleep in falls just to the top of her thighs, and the chill in the air wraps around her legs.  River turns the key of the oil lamp, wanting to clearly see John's face.  He only watches her, clueless.

 

Taking a steadying breath, River explains, "Before- in Blackstone- you asked me why I didn't tell you who I was.  It's because I don't remember- I know Melody Pond existed, and that she was my childhood on Gallifrey.  I was taught that she lived a miserable existence under a tyrannical king who thought only of himself, and so I wanted nothing to do with her."

 

John listens in silence, his face solemn. 

 

Feeling the prick of tears at her eyes, she continues, "But I know now.  Melody lived a happy life.  She was safe, she was happy, she was _loved._   But I'm not her- I can't remember ever being her."

 

"You were Slated?"  John asks quietly, looking broken-hearted.  The feeling is mutual- seven years of memories just gone, thrown away like they never mattered.

 

River doesn't respond, the confirmation stuck in her throat.

 

Before, when he thought she remembered him and chose not to act upon it, he had been upset.  But now, with the sadness in those puppy eyes, she gets the feeling that this is somehow worse.

 

"You don't remember _anything_?"

 

River wants to be angry because what does he want her to say?  But the feeling is fleeting, River only able to imagine the pain that would come with knowing that memories she cherished could no longer be shared by the person they concerned.

 

Grasping for something to try to make it better, River says, "I have dreams sometimes- ever since you showed up."

 

"What kind of dreams?"

 

"You and me- but smaller.  Usually we're running- sometimes climbing these strange, silver trees."

 

And there- just a small twitch of a smile at his lips as John confirms, "Gallifrey."

 

River smiles.  "There was one dream where you used your fork in an attempt to shoot me with a piece of meat, but it started a whole commotion because it landed on some poor woman's breasts instead."

 

John narrows his eyes, a smile working its way more fully across his face.  "That was entirely your fault."

 

She grins.  "Not how I remember it."

 

XxX

 

It's mid-afternoon, the port of Demon's Run hustling and bustling with all types of people despite the dreary day.  Salt lingers in the air from the sea, humidity clings to his skin despite the chill, and the grey clouds cover the sky like an ocean themselves.  Most are focused on their destinations, pushing and shoving past without thought.  John and River keep a slower pace, having just traded half of their coin for two spots aboard the _Dimension_.  It's a beautiful ship, its hull painted a deep, brilliant blue that sets it apart from those around it. 

 

John has never been aboard a ship, and while a bit nervous, he has found that he is rather looking forward to it.  His only concern is the captain- tall, slender, unkempt silver hair, and a face set in a disgruntled frown.  At least, until he caught sight of River, his grumpiness having disappeared in favor of a wide grin, and damn near blushing when she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek like they were old friends.  Maybe they were, he's honestly trying not to think about it.

 

Glancing at River, John sighs to find her gazing at the sky, anxiety practically rolling off her in waves.  It's been a day-long habit, and it's starting to drive him mad.

 

"You're fretting."

 

Pulling her gaze from the sky, River pulls the hood of her cloak back over her curls and arches a brow at him.  "How could you tell?"

 

"You're more obvious than you think, dear."

 

She rolls her eyes, a smile crossing her lips.

 

"Got something against birds, then?"  John pushes, noting the lone black bird circling above the port.

 

"No."

 

Her response is a bit too quick, too sharp, but he chooses to drop it.  Maybe it's the weather.

 

Except, the next day brings blue skies and no clouds, and River seems even more on edge.  John begins to get concerned, and when she leads them to a ship that is definitely not blue and has _The Mistress_  painted on the side, he knows something else is distracting her.

 

"River...this isn't our ship."  John states, stopping at the ramp as she continues to cross onto the ship.

 

"Our ship changed- the _Dimension_  isn't going out today.  We're taking this instead."

 

He frowns.  "How did you find all that out?"

 

Now aboard the ship, River sighs, turning to face him.  "I got up early and double-checked everything while you were sleeping."

 

John narrows his eyes in suspicion.  "Is that code for your early morning thievery routine?"

 

She smiles, the first one he's seen all morning.  "Not this time."

 

Conceding, John makes his way across the ramp.  When they enter the cabin they are meant to be staying in, John drops his pack to the floor and frowns at the small bed only big enough to fit one person.

 

"How long are we going to be on the sea, again?"

 

When she doesn't answer, John turns to find her rummaging through her pack, not paying him a bit of attention.

 

"River."

 

Pulling out their small pouch of coin, she tosses it onto the small table in the corner of the room and finally meets his gaze.  "What?"

 

"You've been distracted all day," John states with a sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed.  "Last night, too."

 

River smirks.  "That's not how I remember last night."

 

John flushes.  No, there were definitely a couple hours the night before when she wasn't distracted at all.  In fact, he had been her sole focus.

 

"I meant before that," he clarifies, heat still at his cheeks.

 

River moves to stand in front of him, his hands coming up to rest at her hips as she leans down to bestow him with a gentle kiss.  When she straightens, one hand carding lovingly through his hair, John's hearts clench at the worry in her eyes.

 

"I have to tell you something."

 

John gives a weak laugh and tries to joke, "That doesn't sound good."

 

She doesn't laugh with him, and his hearts begin to sink.

 

"Madame Kovarian is alive, John."

 

The name alone causes him to flinch, his fingers digging into the soft material of River's jodhpurs.  He shakes his head in denial.  "She's dead, River."

 

"No, John.  You have to listen to me.  She is alive and she _wants you dead_."

 

"How do you know that?"

 

For a moment, River only stares at him.  "Who do you think raised me, John?"

 

"But she's not still alive!"

 

River makes a frustrated sound in the back of her throat.  "How can you be so thick?!  Of course she's alive!  Your father was sloppy and reckless and she was out of Karah days before the attack!"

 

Of course, the thought of Kovarian being alive has been one niggling at his mind for days.  Those men who ambushed him wore eyepatches that John would recognize anywhere. 

 

A chill runs through him as he begins to understand.  "She knows I'm here."

 

River lets out a disbelieving laugh.  "Of course she knows!"

 

"But how?"

 

"I sent her a message.  The morning after I brought you to my cottage."

 

His brow furrows.  Nothing is making any sense.

 

River sighs.  "Remember in Hallelujah?  When you were telling me about everyone Kovarian had Slated and how each of them were given a purpose?  I'm not any different."

 

His throat feels suddenly tight and his hearts begin to race as things slowly start to click into place.  

 

After a silent moment of preparing himself, John quietly asks, "What is your purpose, River?"

 

Tears build in her eyes as she whispers, "You."

 

Feeling oddly detached, John uses a shaking finger to catch the lone tear that overflows onto her cheek.  "And?"

 

"I was supposed to take you to Karah- where she is now.  She was going to have her fun, and then I was to..."  River trails off, shaking her head.  "But then you turned out to be such an _idiot-"_

 

"Oi," John protests, a small smile on his lips.

 

River gives a shaky laugh, watching him fondly.  "I never stood a chance."

 

"So what now?"

 

"We still need a spacecraft.  And I wasn't lying when I said Karah would be where to find it."

 

"Sounds dangerous."

 

"Which is why you're not going."

 

Yet again, John is confused.  "Yes I am."

 

River shakes her head, taking a step back, out of his arms.  "You were right before- this ship isn't going to Karah."

 

John stands, indignant.  "You're not going without me."

 

"I'll find you as soon as I get my hands on a working spacecraft," River says, throwing her pack over her shoulder. 

 

She talks like she's going to pop down to store and will be right back, and it outrages him.

 

"Dammit, River, listen to me!  I'm not getting separated from you again!  Either we both go, or we stay."

 

For a moment, he thinks she listens, River watching him with wide eyes.  She drops her pack, crosses the space between them, and kisses him for all she's worth.  John returns it with just as much fervor, desperation bleeding into the kiss in a plea for her to just _listen_.

 

When they break, John is startled by the sadness in her eyes, and he clings to her all the more.  River runs her fingers through his hair, her thumb resting at his forehead.

 

"I'm sorry, my love."

 

In the second before, he feels the tingle of her Ora in the air, but there is no time to react.  There is a familiar jolt, then John collapses onto the bed, asleep.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close to the end!!!


	10. no escape, no change of heart, nor any place to hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying not to panic as it becomes clear that River is probably long gone, John asks, "Who are you?"
> 
> The woman's smile widens as she crosses her legs and folds her hands over her knee. "The Mistress, of course. Captain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Written in the Stars" from the musical Aida

 

 

John wakes to the gentle sway of the ship and the sound of the sea lapping at the hull.  He groans, feeling drugged from River's Ora, and opens his eyes to bleary vision.

 

"You're awake," speaks a female voice.  "I don't think the witch was expecting you to wake for at least two more days."

 

John pushes himself into sitting position, blinking a few times to clear his vision.  The woman who spoke sits primly in a wooden chair, wide, blue eyes boring into his.  A slightly manic smile crosses her red lips.

 

"Ruined plans are always such fun."

 

Trying not to panic as it becomes clear that River is probably long gone, John asks, "Who are you?"

 

The woman's smile widens as she crosses her legs and folds her hands over her knee.

 

"The Mistress, of course.  Captain."

 

Skeptical, John questions, "Captain Mistress?"

 

Her mouth turns into a frown.  "Just the Mistress- or Missy, if you like."  Narrowing her eyes in suspicion, the woman notes, "All the captains here go by titles, don't you know?"

 

Hesitating, John answers vaguely, "I'm not from around here."

 

Missy arches a brow.  "Apparently."

 

In an attempt to appear more confident than he is, John lifts his chin and demands, "I need you to take me to Karah."

 

"My, my, how bossy we are," she notes, unimpressed as she leans back in her chair and studies him.  "Did a little 'please' ever hurt anyone?"

 

John sighs.  "Please?"

 

"Please what?"

 

"Please,  _Mistress_?"

 

The manic grin returns.  "Sorry, can't."

 

John groans in frustration.  "Why not?"

 

"I'm afraid I don't break promises so easily, dear."

 

Smile still in place, she gives a small shrug.  Then, as if the matter is settled, the woman stands and ascends the stairs to the deck.

 

Inwardly cursing River for being so stubborn and getting him into this mess, John pushes himself to his feet and follows.  Once on the open deck, he takes a moment to gape at his surroundings.  The purple sails are filled with wind, salt from the sea lingers in the air, and calm ocean stretches as far as the eye can see.  His knees wobble a bit, suddenly wishing for the safety of solid ground.

 

"Beautiful, isn't it?"  Sighs Missy from where she leans against the starboard railing, gazing out at the sea.

 

Stepping carefully over to her, John grips the railing and gulps as he looks below.  It seems he much prefers flying.

 

Ignoring her question entirely, he asks, "What promise?"

 

Missy scowls.  "The one I made to that witch of yours."  She sniffs.  "Filthy blood."

 

"Come on," John tries.  "It can't be that important."

 

She frowns.  "Of course it is."

 

"But you don't even like her!"

 

Missy scoffs.  "But I  _owe_  her."  A snarl, then she jabs a finger at John.  "But after this, she and I are even, got it?"

 

"Well maybe," John starts, an idea forming, "if you helped me,  _she_  would owe  _you_."

 

The Mistress narrows her eyes, considering him for a moment before stating, "I'm listening."

 

XxX

 

Karah- the shining city of Orenda.  At least, it used to be.  Not anymore, thinks River as she steps onto solid ground after having been aboard the  _Dimension_  for two weeks.

 

The port is busy, which to a newcomer would look strange as the towering, crumbling city that lies just beyond seems completely abandoned. 

 

Shouldering her pack, River keeps the hood of her cloak up and her head down as she navigates her way through the crowds.  Perhaps finding a spacecraft will be easier than she imagined.  The residents of Karah no longer dwell on the surface, but underneath, in an entirely different world deemed the UnderCity. 

 

The surface is quiet, filled only with the sounds of birds and roaming wildlife.  The once-impressive skyscrapers lie mostly in rubble, their remains littering what would have been paved streets once upon a time.  Those not completely destroyed aren't in much better shape.  Some lean ominously to one side, the integrity of the building obviously compromised and only still standing by the grace of the gods.  Others have been destroyed by scavengers, the insides gutted and the glass window panes smashed out.  For the most part, the city has been given back to nature, most everything covered in thick vines and heavy greenery.

 

The difference between a town like Albaj and Karah during its golden era is night and day.  It stuns River, how such technology could be so contained.  Though she supposes that it never really had much of a chance to expand.

 

Leaving the port behind, River is greeted by a broken archway that once would have read  _WELCOME TO KARAH_.  Now only a few letters are legible on each end, the middle having been destroyed and lost over time.  Glancing up, River sees Madame's black messenger bird perched on one side of the arch, staring her down with its beady little eyes.

 

A chill runs through her, and River knows that her arrival has not gone unnoticed.

 

As if on cue, a cool, smooth voice speaks from behind her, "Welcome home, my pet."

 

XxX

 

" _Two weeks?!"_   John exclaims, dread filling his stomach.

 

"No, no," Missy corrects.  "Two weeks and  _two days,_  to be exact.  Karah was two weeks away from Demon's Run.  We headed in the opposite direction two days ago."

 

Missy's crewmen rush around them, obeying her most recent demand to change their destination.  After some persuading, John is finally Karah-bound once more.

 

He sighs.  "And there's no way to go any faster?"

 

Missy scowls.  "If you have some sort of wind-dance you'd like to perform, go ahead.  Otherwise you'll have to be patient like a good boy."

 

"Okay, okay," John concedes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to will away his anxiety.  "What about once we get there?"

 

"There is no  _we_ ," Missy states, a savage frown on her face.  "We get to Karah, you get off my ship, I leave.  The end."

 

"But I need to find Kovarian."

 

Missy stares, a cackle rising from her throat and a wide grin blooming across her face.  "Let me rephrase, then- We get to Karah, you get off my ship, I leave,  _you die_."  She claps excitedly.  "I'm almost tempted to help you find her, just to watch your pretty little head get chopped off."

 

He huffs.  "Not sure you would get that favor from River if that's what happened."

 

She waves her hand.  "Decapitations are much more fun than favors."

 

Not exactly the motive John would prefer, but an idea forms regardless. 

 

He leans toward her, as if about to reveal a secret of a lifetime, smug smile on his face.  "What if I told you I'm the Gallifreyan Heir?"

 

The woman is stunned only for a moment, her surprise replaced with an almost-sinister grin.  The mania within Missy's eyes seems to increase tenfold, and John knows he has his guide.

 

XxX

 

The UnderCity is unique to Orenda, built deep underground and powered by weak electricity- a leftover from Karah's technology.  Vents are slotted at the surface, allowing the escape of pollution, but not large enough to provide the light of day.  Countless light bulbs are strung between buildings, providing a dim haze by which the city lives.  That same light filters feebly into where River sits now, the hall of Kovarian Manor.

 

It's dark, the window behind her dingy and not helping the lack of lighting.  River attempts not to fidget, sat across from Madame at a large, mahogany table.  Madame's red-painted lips are curled up in their usual smirk, her one eye staring River down as the silence borders on uncomfortable. 

 

"You've been away from home for quite some time, my pet."  Madame's voice is low, but hard.  "I'm glad to see you."

 

Before, River might would have believed her guardian, might would have smiled and returned the sentiment.  Now, it's different.  River sees how Madame sees her- a token, a pawn.  An expendable means to a selfish end.

 

"Thank you, Madame," forces River.  Her throat feels constricted, her chest tight as the reality of such betrayal weighs heavy on her shoulders.  River's childhood- the one she remembers- had been a difficult one, a painful one.  But it had all been for the greater good, that's what she had been taught, what she believed with every fiber of her being.  The pain was going to be worth it- but now, River knows it was for nothing more than greed.

 

Even with that knowledge, River looks at Madame and feels guilt.  Her gut wrenches, there is the sickening feeling of being a disappointment, and her mind screams  _traitor!_

 

The training and education she endured when she was younger had been nothing short of brutal, and apparently so thorough that River is going to have to work hard to completely rid herself of it.  But then she thinks of John's ridiculous face- his floppy hair and his lopsided grin, and suddenly it all seems a little less difficult.

 

Madame shifts in her seat, her gaze unwavering.  "So the Prince of Gallifrey fell right into your path- it seems your purpose is truly destined, my dear."

 

When River fails to respond, Madame leans forward, the eye not covered by her patch narrowing slightly.  "However, it is curious that he is not with you now."

 

"He escaped," River lies with ease.  "But not to worry- I have eyes on him, and I suspect he will arrive by his own free will."

 

She prays to the gods that he doesn't.

 

Madame arches a suspicious brow.  "Funny thing- I sent three men to fetch him.  I thought they could bring him to me, and his trust in you would remain unbroken.  I wanted to see his face when the truth was revealed.  But my men failed to return, so I sent out a scavenger- what he reported sounded eerily like your work, my little witch."

 

"They were fools," snaps River.  "They nearly destroyed my cover, I did the only thing I could."

 

Leaning back in her chair, Madame watches River in silence before finally nodding.  With a wave of her hand, Madame adds, "They were of no importance, anyhow."  She pauses.  "And what exactly makes you think the Prince will return to you?"

 

The truth of her next words make them stick in her throat, River forcing down the emotion that wells inside her. 

 

"It would seem that the idiot is in love."

 

Madame stares, and River revels in shocking her guardian for only a moment.

 

"With you?"

 

Her fists clenching her lap- gods she should have never left him- River nods.

 

Madame's uncovered eye brightens like a child gifted a heap of presents.  Her red lips twist into a smile, and she doesn't have to say a word for River to understand how much the news pleases her.

 

XxX

 

There are many ways to enter and leave the UnderCity- tunnels that lead to ladders, flights of stairs that are convenient, but sometimes exhausting, and a number of manually operated elevators.  Today, River chooses the latter, a small passenger elevator that she favors for its location.  Once at the surface she pushes aside the cross-hatched gate and steps onto a dirty, marble floor.  Before the war, this building was Karah's ultimate place of luxury, a resplendent hotel located in the heart of the city.  Of course now it is abandoned, gutted, and missing the top twenty-two and a half floors. 

 

Some things are still intact, such as the large, wooden entry doors and the main reception desk, and though scavengers raided the place long ago, rows of brass keys remain along one wall behind a desk left in rubble, a remnant of a life once lived by many.  Any other remaining objects are destroyed, such as the chandelier, which now lies shattered in the center of the lobby floor, and the large entry clock, which is somehow still hanging, but has a cracked face and hands frozen at exactly 5:02.

 

The entry doors are locked, and River chooses to leave them that way, coming and going as she pleases through the shattered windows that used to reach from floor to ceiling.  She stands just inside them now, gazing out at the torrential rain currently pounding the ruined city.  The chilly breeze wraps around her and she shudders- so much for spacecraft hunting today.

 

River gives a sigh.  Rain like this can fall for days without stop, which leaves plan b as her only option.

 

Plan b was her backup plan for a reason.  Stupid.  Dangerous.  Almost impossible.  Though at this point, she's loving the 'almost.'

 

Normally River would throw herself into danger headfirst, a smile on her face and adrenaline rushing through her veins.  But this is different.

 

A lone spacecraft is locked inside the small fortress of Kovarian Manor.  It is a working spacecraft, heavily guarded and under constant supervision.  Even if she were able to get past the guards and the security measures, and even if she could figure out how to pilot the damn thing, there is still the problem of it being held in a city that lies underground.  She would have to fly above the city, maneuver around a few tall buildings, and somehow make it to the cargo shaft. 

 

The cargo shaft is large, meant for raising and lowering machinery and resources into and out of the city, but it would be a tight fit for a spacecraft.

 

Like she said,  _almost_  impossible.  

 

River sits on the ledge of the window and gazes out at the rain.  She's going to need a plan.

 

XxX

 

Sea ships are awful, evil things that should have never been created.

 

That's John's sole thought as he quickly exits down the ramp, off the ship, and onto the beautiful, blessed solid ground of Karah's port.  The day before had brought awful storms at sea, heavy winds, hard rain, and ocean waves that threw the ship from side to side.

 

_'It's best to ride it out on the deck!'_   Missy had yelled over the storm, and John had foolishly taken the madwoman's advice.  As such, he spent four hours clinging to the port-side railing, too nauseous to move, getting drenched to the bone, and heaving out all the contents of his stomach as Missy twirled about the deck with open arms, cackling gleefully.

 

It had been nothing short of miserable.

 

Now he collapses to the ground, arms splayed to either side and cheek pressed to the dirt as he attempts to embrace the earth beneath him.  People step around and over him, grumbling about some drunken fool being in their way.

 

Missy's boots appear in his vision, and John hears her sigh.  "You're embarrassing to be seen with, honestly."

 

Climbing to his feet, John dusts himself off and takes in Missy's purple outfit, hat, and matching umbrella.  Wisely, he keeps his retort to himself.

 

The crowd at Karah's port is a large one, hundreds of people bustling about, but as soon as John and Missy cross underneath a broken archway, all human life appears to cease.

 

His eyes widen as he takes in the view of the destroyed city, everything in ruins and covered in greenery.

 

"Your father made a rather impressive mark, I'll give him that," speaks Missy, smiling as if she approves.

 

John's stomach drops.   _His father_  did this.

 

As if sensing his distress, Missy hesitantly reaches out and gives an awkward, prim pat to his shoulder as she offers, "It was for the best.  Karah had been turned into a city of monsters."

 

"They had lives," John speaks in a whisper, his throat tight.

 

Missy frowns. "The Slated weren't truly living.  Once their memories were erased and they were given a purpose, they were just as good as dead."

 

Thinking of River, John shakes his head.  

 

A knowing smile creeps up Missy's face, and she wags a finger.  "Your little witch is different.  Gallifreyan blood, stronger resistance.  The Silence turned Orendans into nothing more than hollow shells."

 

"What about now?"  John asks, following Missy as she walks deeper into the city.  "All the people Kovarian had Slated- they can't all be dead."

 

She stops at what looks to be a sewer cap, thrusting her umbrella into John's hands.  With a grunt, she pulls the cap from its spot in the street and slides it to the side.

 

Looking up at John, she answers, "A Slated appears every now and again- unable to complete their purpose, they go mad, start killing people, set buildings on fire, destroy everything in sight.  So we, you know-" Missy slices her index finger across her throat.  She smiles.  "It's fun."

 

Snatching back her umbrella from John, Missy turns and begins to descend the ladder into the sewer.

 

Peering into the dark hole, John asks hesitantly, "I thought you were taking me to Kovarian?"

 

Looking up at him as if he is particularly dense, she says, "I am."

 

An uneasy feeling builds within his stomach, but John obliges anyway, following warily down the ladder.  It's not as if he has much other choice.  He assumes River will be with Kovarian- hair like that doesn't go unnoticed- but as John reaches the end of the ladder and drops onto the solid concrete, doubt begins to creep in.  What if she found a spacecraft in no time at all? What if she isn't in Karah any longer, but out there somewhere, looking for him?  And how does travelling through the sewers with a madwoman accomplish anything?

 

The last question, at least, is answered as the tunnel opens up, giving John his first look at what lies beyond.  Missy turns, smug smile on her face as she gestures behind her.  "The UnderCity."

 

John gapes, taking in the tall buildings and masses of people- a entire city underground.  Thousands of light bulbs provide the city's illumination, and John huffs out a laugh.  Electricity.

 

Pulling him away from his gawking, Missy grabs him by the cloak and drags him into the crowded streets. 

 

It seems that every city, village, and township that John passes through while on Orenda is completely unique and unlike anything he has ever seen on Gallifrey, and the UnderCity is no exception.  Missy leads him swiftly through the city, and each street they pass feels like a snapshot of what the dark place has to offer. 

 

There are food markets that double as restaurants, and shops that sell herbs and fresh produce from the surface.  Restaurant owners playfully bicker over who has the best dessert, their commotion gathering crowds to their shops.  It smells like damp earth and dark spices, and something about it feels comforting.

 

Two or three blocks down and the food district gradually begins to decline, and John begins to see more and more clothing for sale.  The shops here are brightly colored, and advertise everything from shoe sole repair, to coat tailors, to customized dyeing.  The latter display deep cauldrons full of rich, liquid color that carry a sharp chemical smell.  It isn't entirely unpleasant, but John wonders what it must be like to smell it all day.

 

The further they move from where they entered the city, the less people appear and the darker it becomes.  The lively center of the city morphs into run-down living quarters and boarded up shops.  It becomes near silent, and John begins to wonder if Missy is about to murder him herself, when finally more people come in sight.  A group of men are gathered around a crumbling building, using sledgehammers to demolish what is left of the structure.  Chains bind the men together, clinking and glinting in the low light, and John assumes they must be prisoners.

 

The next street over finds Missy and John once again amidst a small crowd of people, most dressed in dark cloaks and hoods pulled to obscure their faces.  More street vendors appear, tables littered with shiny jewelry or bottles of brightly colored liquids.  Just as he begins to think they must have run into another shopping district, they pass a crowd gathered around a man chained to a wooden post.  The man's head hangs low, his skin dirty, and clothed in nothing more than a thin rag around his waist.  A different man, wearing a finely pressed suit, stands next to him and calls for bids, the crowd eager as they shout their price.

 

A chill bolts through John, and suddenly he realizes that perhaps  _slaves_  would be the better term for the chained men they passed by earlier.

 

"The black market," Missy explains as she pulls John down another street and away from the unsettling sight, sensing his hesitancy.  "You can buy anything from stolen jewelry to people."

 

"And that's  _allowed_?"

 

Missy raises a delicate brow, as if the answer is obvious.  "This is Kovarian's turf.  No one's moronic enough to challenge it."

 

At her words, John ceases to focus on his surroundings and becomes lost in thought. 

 

Is  _this_  moronic?  He doesn't even have a plan!  It's more of a...thing.

 

His stomach churns, and maybe he should rethink this.  The thought is fleeting, however, Missy coming to an abrupt halt and John nearly bumping into the back of her.

 

His questions stall in his throat as he looks across the street, the manor built on the corner guarded by a handful of eyepatch men.  He doesn't have to ask to know where they have arrived. 

 

From above, a blackbird rests on the roof's ledge and gives an alarmed caw.  John looks up to find the bird's eyes trained solely on him as it hops restlessly along the ledge.  The curtains to the many windows are drawn shut, and the manor itself seems to loom ominously over the dimly lit street.  A black iron fence lines the property, the tops pointed into spikes, and absolutely nothing about the picture is welcoming.

 

Missy skips across the street and pushes through the gate, John following warily as the bird gives another screech.

 

Curtsying to the two guards, Missy speaks, "We request an audience with Madame Kovarian."

 

Unphased, as if this is an often occurance- and what is she, a bloody queen?- one guard pulls a rope, setting off a low, unpleasant doorbell.

 

John stares uneasily at the black door, his stomach rolling and feeling as if he is about to the enter the gates of hell.  The string of bulbs above them flicker unsteadily, the electricity running through them giving a low hum.  If he were a more superstitious man, he would take it as a sign and get the hell out.  But regardless, it is too late, the black door swinging open to welcome them.

 

John doesn't know exactly who he was expecting- perhaps another eyepatch man, or maybe Kovarian herself.  Instead, his River stands on the other side, looking worn, but gorgeous, and his hearts swell at the sight of her.

 

"Oh goody," speaks Missy.  "Just the witch we needed to see."

 

Missy shoves John past the guards and up the stone steps.  "I'm afraid I'm going to require a teensy bit more payment than originally discussed- your prince is quite the handful."

 

Stunned to see them for only a moment, River turns her unhappy glare to Missy.  Leaning forward and speaking low enough where the guards are unable to hear, she hisses, "You were supposed to keep him safe."

 

John frowns, interjecting before Missy has a chance to respond. 

 

"I can keep myself safe, River."

 

River looks at him, properly looks at him for the first time since she opened the door.  Her shoulders drop, and while John can tell she is happy to see him, he knows she wishes it were under different circumstances.

 

Missy gives a whistle, waving her hand between John and River's locked gaze.  "Yes, hello, remember me?  Payment, my wee darling witch."

 

With that, Missy holds out her hand, but all she receives is another threatening glare from River.

 

"Get out."

 

Missy pouts, giving a twirl of her umbrella.  "All that work and not even a thank you?"  She tsks, taking a step back with a shrug.  "We'll settle my bill later- when it's just us girls, hmm?"  Her manic smile returns as she glances over to John.  "Have a nice death, Prince.  Ta!"

 

John watches Missy skip away with a shake of his head, finding himself simultaneously relieved and disappointed at the madwoman's exit.  Perhaps their paths will cross again in the future.

 

Returning his attention to River, he finds her gaze already on him.  She stands at the threshold, one arm extended with her fingers curled tightly around the doorframe, almost as if she is prepared to refuse him entrance.  He wants to reach for her, pull her into his arms and soothe her worries.  Her eyes dart to the two guards, and John deflates a bit as he remembers exactly where they are.  River looks at him, her expression pained, and suddenly John wonders if maybe his decision truly was a rash one.

 

Gaze falling to the floor, River drops her arm and steps to the side.  John moves past her, taking the opportunity of cramped space to brush his fingers lovingly up her arm.  Everything will be fine.

 

XxX

 

The door clicks shut, leaving River and John in the darkened entryway.  Two candles held in sconces are all that light the tiny hall, the limited electricity saved for elsewhere in the manor.  Shadows flicker over John's pretty face, and she has to admit, he sure is a welcome sight.

 

Glancing down the hall and seeing no one, River finally asks, "What are you doing here, John?"

 

He frowns.  "I wasn't keen to stay on a ship with a madwoman, River."

 

"It was meant to keep you out of harm's way."

 

"You don't get to make those decisions for me."

 

River narrows her eyes.  "What don't you understand about this woman  _wanting you dead_?"

 

"We're safer together, River!"

 

"Not here, John," she snaps.  "You need to be far away from this place."

 

He slumps, his voice quiet once again as he turns those damn puppy eyes on her and gives a small shake of his head.  "I need to be with you."

 

John has never said aloud that he loves her, and something tells her that they're both the type to keep those words tightly locked away.  But he doesn't have to say it- River sees it in his eyes and the way he smiles.  In the way he is idiotic enough to find himself standing in danger simply because that is where she is.

 

The man is stupidly in love with her, and the thought makes her hearts pound because gods help her, his love is far from unrequited.

 

More arguments build in her throat, but River finds that even more than having a row, she wants to kiss his ridiculous face.  So she does, grabbing him by his red braces and pulling him into a kiss that is full of everything she feels but doesn't have time to say.  Her desperation to keep him safe, her frustration at him for being so bloody stubborn, and of course her selfish joy at being with him once again despite the circumstance.

 

John's fingers tangle in her curls as he kisses her back insistently, his mouth just harsh enough to remind her that his decisions are his own, and he what he decided on was her.

 

She could drown in this moment, be happily taken under by this wave of desperate love and cling to him like an anchor detached from its ship, never to resurface.  She could, but she doesn't, breaking the moment to take a much needed breath.  Now is not the time.  By now, the guards- or that damn bird- have certainly alerted Madame of her long-awaited guest.  It won't be long before she graces them with her presence.

 

With River still in his arms, John presses a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth.  Eyes fluttering shut, she allows just one more second of stolen time, her fingers curling into the thick material of his cloak.  So much affection is held in such a simple touch, and it's nearly enough to make her melt.  The time without John has been split between stewing in self-loathing, and attempting to figure out how to get both her and John out of Orenda alive.  But now, with John here and his arms wrapped securely around her, her worries seem to vanish.  Whatever she has to do to keep him safe, she will do it.  She may not have a plan, but she has her motivation, and that is all she needs.

 

A door slams somewhere within the manor, the sound echoing throughout the complex and enough to cause River and John to spring apart.  River's hearts pound within her chest as she stares down the empty hallway, barely breathing as she waits for a figure to appear around the corner.

 

A beat.

 

Two beats.

 

Nothing.

 

A small wave of relief washes over her, but River doesn't hold onto the feeling for long.  Madame could be here at any moment, and more than likely without some slamming door to announce her presence.

 

Looking back at John, she finds him staring back with renewed determination, and River knows he understands that there is no more time to waste.

 

"The spacecraft we need is here," River states.

 

John gives her a strange look.  "Yes, in Karah."

 

River shakes her head.  " _Here_ , John.  The top floor of the manor."

 

His eyes widen.

 

"We can't go now- too many guards are on duty."

 

Looking resigned to his fate, John asks, "So what happens next?"

 

River takes his hand, squeezing her fingers around his in an attempt to comfort, despite the uneasy feeling growing in the pit of her stomach.  The lump in her throat makes it difficult to speak as she states,  "Madame will almost certainly imprison you to the sewers.  I will come for you tonight."  

 

John gives a small, humorless smile.  "Do you think she'll keep me alive that long?"

 

Tossing her curls over her shoulder, River gives him a playful smirk and hopes she appears more confident than she feels.  "I didn't rescue you from a burning ship just to have you die now, sweetie."

 

John huffs out a laugh, eyes softening as he gives a nod.

 

River wants to kiss him again, run her fingers through his hair and give him reassurance, but she never gets the chance. 

 

From behind her, a cold voice suddenly speaks, "My, my, how cozy we are."

 

As she turns to face her guardian, dread tugging at her hearts, River resists the urge to shield John from view. 

 

"Madame," River greets, standing a bit taller and hoping she looks like an ever-obedient servant instead of the traitor that she is.  "Perfect timing.  Our guest has arrived."

 

Madame watches River closely, her one-eyed stare seeming to hold all the ice of winter.  Then, she smiles.  "Just as you knew he would, my pet."

 

Stepping closer, Madame caresses River's cheek as if she were a small child, and it's all River can do to not flinch away.  "You've done well, but I wish to speak to our guest in private.  Get some rest, my precious little witch- tomorrow will bring an exhausting day for you."

 

It is not a request, it's a demand, and to disobey her guardian would only bring suspicion, not to mention certain punishment.  So despite everything within her screaming not to leave John's side, River musters a smile and gives a nod.  Stepping past Madame, River doesn't dare spare John a last glance, sending a prayer up to the gods for them to keep him safe in her absence.

 

As she leaves, River hears Madame speak, "Prince," her voice holding a malicious smile that River has no trouble imagining twisted across the woman's face.  

 

"We meet again."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter to go! Thanks for sticking with me <3


	11. golden slumbers fill your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The door closes, there is a click of the lock, and John knows he leaves this place one of two ways- with River, or not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the end! 
> 
> You may have noticed the chapter count now reads as 12 instead of 11. Don't worry! It's only because I separated the epilogue into it's own chapter (:
> 
> Chapter title from "Golden Slumbers" by the Beatles

 

 

A large wooden door at the back of Kovarian Manor opens to reveal a sewer tunnel, and John immediately understands that River had been correct about the location of his new, temporary home.  Two guards follow behind John as he reluctantly trails after Kovarian, ensuring that he remains a well-behaved prisoner.  A flip of a switch and the sewer becomes bathed in a dim, yellow light.  Light bulbs run from where they stand and disappear into the distance, prompting John to wonder just how deep this tunnel goes.

 

It looks like a sewer, smells like a sewer, but feels like a prison.  The tunnels that split from the main path have been converted into cells, their openings shut off by doors of steel bars, and the backs walled up with brick.  Kovarian comes to a halt at a particularly shallow one, opening the barred door with a key.  The hinges squeak as it swings open, and she bestows him with a smile as she gestures inside.

 

"Your quarters, Your Majesty."

 

Silently, John enters the cell, biting back a number of snide remarks.  The door closes, there is a click of the lock, and he knows he leaves this place one of two ways- with River, or not at all.

 

Through the bars, Kovarian continues to smirk at him, full of too much confidence and prematurely celebrating her long-awaited win over the Gallifreyan Royal Family.  She looks exactly how he remembers.  Eyepatch, red lips, and the thirst for power obvious in her stare.  John's fingers clench into fists, suddenly realizing that he would quite like to see her dead.

 

River only allowed him brief glimpses into her childhood here on Orenda, but she revealed enough for him to know that it hadn't been a happy one.  It had been full of pain, exhaustion, and loneliness.  Her Gallifreyan life with John had been wiped from her memory, and while she receives pieces of it in her dreams, John knows it is not something that will ever be complete again.

 

His River, his  _Melody_ , is strong, stubborn, and lovelier than the stars themselves.  More than that, she is  _alive_ , which is something John never would have considered a possibility just a year ago.  For that, he is grateful, but it is not enough for him to forgive the woman standing on the other side of these bars.

 

Kovarian signals for her guards to leave, refocusing on John once they are out of sight.

 

"I must give credit where credit is due, Prince."

 

John frowns, not following.

 

"Oh, don't be so modest.  Be proud of what you have accomplished.  After all, I never saw it coming."

 

"Saw what coming?"  John asks impatiently, hating himself a bit for giving into his curiosity.

 

"My darling little witch, of course.  Disgustingly in love with the Gallifreyan Heir- who would have thought?"  

 

John's blood runs cold. 

 

She knows.  Of course she does.  

 

"I don't know what you're talking about."

 

"Save the lies, Prince.  They are of no use to you here."

 

John remains silent, and Kovarian continues, "Though I have to admit, I wasn't completely sure until I overheard the two of you speaking."  She tsks.  "Such an unfortunate betrayal."

 

His hearts thunder in his chest as fear for River's safety begins to creep in, and he does his best to sound convincing as he tries, "She would never love me."

 

Kovarian fixes him with a hard stare.  "If you continue on like this, I will be forced to cut out that lying tongue of yours."

 

John presses his lips tightly together, swallowing all the words building in his throat.

 

Kovarian gives a sigh.  "It was never supposed to be her in the first place.  The plan was to take  _you_.  Then, I bumped into little Melody as she was running to meet you in the garden, and I thought- wouldn't this be delicious?  The Prince's betrothed raised to murder him in cold blood."

 

He scoffs.  "And then what?  With me dead, my father would pick a successor, and it would  _never_  be you."

 

"So simple-minded," Kovarian tsks.  "With you out of the way, I planned to send River back to Gallifrey _,_  and  _how tragic_.  Their queen-to-be has been returned to them, but her betrothed now lies buried in the palace cemetery, struck dead by some unknown assailant.  She would have the Gallifreyan people cupped in the palm of her hand, and when the time came for the so-called King to name his replacement, no one would be able to disagree that a crown would look no lovelier than on those curls.  I was to rule through her.  Her voice, my voice.  Her actions, my actions.  Little did I know she would betray me so easily."

 

John's throat feels constricted, his voice coming out in a whisper as he states, "She was never yours.  Not before, not after, and not today."

 

A smile curls the edges of Kovarian's lips as she pulls the chain of her necklace from beneath her black top.  At the end of it is a small vial of liquid, and as she holds it up for John to see, it glints a pale green in the dim light.

 

"Do you know what this is?"

 

"Piss?"

 

A snarl twists Kovarian's face as she bites, " _No_.  This is the very last bit of something called the Silence."

 

John pales, all smartarse retorts vanishing as it suddenly feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

 

Kovarian's features smooth into a confident smirk as she delicately returns the vial to its place under her clothes. 

 

"I'm a very patient person, and I promise you, all of my hard work will not go to waste, even if I must start over.  I underestimated the importance of you in Melody's life- this time I will ensure that you are completely out of the picture."  Kovarian leans in, nose nearly touching the bars as she assures, "She may not be mine today, Prince, but there is always tomorrow."

 

XxX

 

River's bedroom in Kovarian Manor is tiny, cramped, and bare of anything but the essentials.  Her window is small and admittedly lacking any sort of view, but it does serve one important purpose.  River sits on the edge of her bed and watches as the light bulbs that eliminate the UnderCity finally dim to become a barely-there glow.  Night time.

 

There are strict lock-down rules in the manor once night falls.  Other than the few night guards left on staff, anyone caught in the corridors are in for severe punishment.  Pulling on her soft-soled boots, River finds herself grateful for all the times Madame sent her to bed without dinner as a form of discipline.  Once night fell and all electricity was cut from the building, her younger self would chance being punished and sneak to the kitchen in hopes of finding just a crumb of food.  Now, she can move through the manor like the walls aren't there.

 

Just this morning, a quick trip to the surface had lifted her hopes.  The rain had stopped, the sun rose bright and cheerful, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.  Searching Karah's surface for an old, abandoned spacecraft was once more an option, and of course, endlessly more appealing than attempting to steal Madame's ship right from under her nose.

 

But those plans had been dashed once again by John's unexpected arrival.  Now, there is no time to find a spacecraft, determine if it is salvageable, pay someone to get it running, and wait until the work is complete.  She needs to get John out of the UnderCity, out of Orenda,  _tonight_.  That means only one particular spaceship will do.

 

Hand on the doorknob of her bedroom door, River takes a steadying breath.  Once she steps out into the hall, there is no going back.  Armed with nothing but determination and the Ora running through her veins, River sends a brief prayer to the gods and opens the door.

 

Stepping quietly into the corridor, she is unsurprised to find the rest of the hallway completely silent.  The narrow window at the end of the passage allows a feeble sliver of light, but it is not enough to see by, and certainly not enough for anyone else to see her. 

 

The carpet beneath her boots allows for swift but inaudible movement as she passes by the window and down the adjacent corridor.  At this point, she should see the light of a hanging lantern by the bottom of the stairs- the first guard's post.  Instead, she is met only with more darkness.

 

Squinting, River slows her movements, wary of the vacancy.  As she nears the staircase, she stops at the lantern and places the back of her hand to its outer casing.  Cold.  Easily not lit since the evening before.

 

After a moment of confused contemplation, River shrugs off her suspicions.  Perhaps Madame has changed the guard postings since the last time she was here.

 

The stairs are made of stone, River stepping carefully as she begins her ascent to the top floor.  Her hand glides along the smooth, wooden railing, and her eyes feel wide as she tries to will herself into being able to see more clearly in the dark.  The manor is four stories high, with three flights of stairs and a landing at each floor.  Usually, the entrance to each floor is policed by a single guard, but tonight it seems she is given free passage.      

 

Rounding the last landing, River peers up the final stretch of stairs and finds her anxiety relieved at the low light of a lit lantern and the shadowed figure that accompanies it.  Having no guards has made it easy, but the foreign feeling that came with their absence had her set on edge.

 

Retreating back around the corner of the landing to ensure she is out of sight, River takes the extinguished third floor lantern from its hook and clanks it along the railing of the stairs.  In the silence, the metal against metal sound is harsh and unpleasant, but it has the desired effect. 

 

From the floor above, the guard speaks, "Orlan?  Is that you?  You know you're supposed to be guarding the entrance to the sewers."

 

Ah.  So that's where the other guards have gotten to.  Again, she clangs the lantern to the railing.

 

River hears the guard huff, followed by the heavy clumping of him descending the stairs. "Orlan- I swear to the gods, mate- if you and Powell are trying to take the piss out of me again-"

 

The guard steps onto the landing and doesn't have the opportunity to finish his sentence.  Before he can register that the intruder is not a fellow guard, River has her fingers pressed to the man's forehead, using her Ora to place him in an immediate slumber.  The guard collapses to the ground at her feet, and she remains still, listening for any other movement from above.

 

After a moment of hearing nothing- apart from the thundering of her own hearts- River squats and pats her hands over the guard's form.  Inside his left trouser pocket is a single key.  Most guards carry a ring that hold a number of keys, responsible for every room on their assigned floor.  The fourth floor, however, has but one lone door to a room that could hold a thousand men.  Instead, it holds a spaceship.

 

Key clasped tightly in hand, River hops lightly over the sleeping guard and proceeds up the final flight of stairs.  At the top, she grabs the lit lantern and approaches the door, casting a soft glow over the lock.  The key is a perfect fit, and the lock gives a satisfying  _click_  as she effortlessly turns the key.

 

Inside, River holds up the lantern and squints to see the spaceship.  Stepping closer, she breathes a relieved sigh to see that it is a relatively small passenger craft.  Hopefully she will be able to pilot it out of the UnderCity without a problem.  After all, if John can fly a ship, it can't possibly be that difficult.

 

Pressing a small button next to the passenger door, the ship gives a hiss as the seal retracts and the door slowly folds down, doubling as the boarding ramp.  River peeks inside and nearly laughs aloud at her luck- the key fob to start the ship is already in the ignition.  Not entirely unsurprising, as there is meant to be a guard on watch.  Still, perhaps the gods are on her side after all.

 

With only one thing left to check, River moves to the back wall and sets her lantern on the floor.  A pulley system is rigged up the wall and across the ceiling, and with two hands, she grabs the rope and begins to pull.  The ceiling above separates from the far side of the wall and inches inward with every tug of the rope.  The gears that carry it give protesting groans and squeaks, the noise seeming unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent room.  Peering up, River is met with the sight of more darkness, the surface an indeterminate stretch above her.  For some illogical reason, she was expecting stars.

 

Pushing the odd thought aside, River picks up the lantern and moves to exit the room.  The spacecraft is ready to go, all she needs is John.

 

XxX

 

It is dark.  So very, very dark.

 

The lights in the sewers were extinguished with Kovarian's exit, drenching John in a kind of darkness he has never known.  Nothing is visible, not the brick wall behind him, not the bars before him, not even his own hand when he waves it in front of his face.  As time passes, the darkness begins to pervade more than just the air.  It seeps into his mind and drowns his senses until reality begins to slip.  His fingers ache from clenching around the cell bars in a desperate attempt to keep hold of his surroundings, to remind him where he is despite being unable to see.

 

There is silence, but it feels too loud.  Or maybe that's the pounding of his hearts in his ears, like amplified drums.

 

His bottom lip quivers, and suddenly John realizes that he is scared.  He is alone, imprisoned to a shallow cell with no way out, submerged in the darkest of darks, and unable to picture anything but that damn vial hung around Kovarian's neck.  

 

The darkness makes it easy for his imagination to conjure the worst of possibilities.  River, somewhere in the manor, no doubt planning their escape.  Cornered by guards, or maybe ambushed by Kovarian from behind.  A syringe to her neck, the Silence rushing into her veins.  She struggles, but only for a moment.  Her eyes turn blank, the fight in her vanishes, and John loses her all over again.

 

John sinks to his knees, the broken concrete beneath him sharp and uncomfortable.  He doesn't know how much time has passed, but his numb legs tingle with pain at his movement, berating him for standing in one position for far too long.  Tears spring to his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall, shutting his eyes against them.  His fingers shake, and he tightens his grip on the bars.  Panic claws up his throat, his chest feels constricted, and John forces himself to take even, steady breaths.

 

His River- she's good.  Amazing, actually.  There's no need for him to work himself up into-

 

"John?"

 

At her voice, John's eyes fly open, stunned to see River on the other side of the cell bars.  The glow of her lantern burns at his eyes, causing him to blink repeatedly as he nearly jumps to his feet.

 

" _River_ ," he breathes, and if his eyes water it's only because the light is so bright after being in such darkness.  

 

His hand shakes as he reaches through the bars to cup the side her face.  A small smile crosses her lips, and John feels weak with relief at the mixture of concern and undying love he finds in her eyes.

 

"You're okay."

 

River snorts.  "Of course I'm okay."  She reaches through the bars to straighten his bow tie, and John is unable to do much more than drink in the sight of her.  "Ridiculous man."

 

Pulling back her hand, River fishes through one of her pockets and produces a key.  "Better than okay, actually.  Got the key to where the spaceship is being held.  Now we just have to get you out of here."

 

River holds up her lantern, squinting as she inspects the hinges of the cell door. 

 

John's throat feels tight as he states, "She knows, River."

 

Her eyes immediately snap to his.  "What?"

 

"Kovarian.  She knows our plan."

 

Expression smoothing to conceal her surprise, River sets the lantern on the floor.  "Best be quick, then."

 

XxX

 

River gives John the key to keep safe as she studies the cell door, her brain racing to come up with an idea to free him.  The bars are old and tinged with rust- perhaps corroded enough to be weak.  Her boot collides to a bar in a swift, powerful kick, but all she earns for her efforts is a jarring pain shooting up her leg.

 

She swears, and John snorts.  "Not your best idea, dear."

 

River glares, the corners of her lips twitching upward in brief amusement.  "Shut up."

 

"Make me," John taunts, grinning like he doesn't remember that he is trapped inside a cell.

 

The moment River opens her mouth to retort, the sewers are flooded with light, the bulbs flickering to life in an instant.  River and John both flinch at the change, and River quickly blinks the spots from her eyes.  There is the sound of the door to the manor creaking open, and her hearts begin to thunder in her chest.  Only one person it could be.

 

Grabbing her wrist, John pulls her to the bars, forcing her to look at him.  His eyes are wide and full of fear, and she can feel his slight trembling through the fingers around her wrist.

 

"You have to run.   _Now_."

 

In the face of his panic, River's hearts slow their fast pace, and an odd calm settles over her.  "Too late for that, my love."

 

"Too late, indeed," speaks Madame's voice, River turning as her guardian approaches.

 

Two guards keep just behind her, proof enough that Madame must not feel as confident as she appears.  Even with that knowledge, River takes one look at her guardian and suddenly feels dwarfed and unsure, like a small animal caught by its predator.  Her one eye pierces River with a disappointed stare, and the absurd urge to beg for forgiveness claws at her throat.

 

Madame's gaze softens as she steps toward River, reaching up to caress River's cheek with the back of her fingers.  "Oh, my pet, what has he done to you, hmm?"

 

Clenching her teeth together, River manages to lean only ever so slightly away, but the motion does not go unnoticed.  Madame's eyebrows knit together as if in concern, her gaze dropping to the dark green pearls at River's neck.  She tuts, her fingers slipping under the necklace as she admires the pearls.  "A gift, I presume?"

 

Madame takes River's silence as affirmation, the rage seething just below the surface erupting as she yanks the necklace from River's neck.  The string breaks, pearls popping along the stone floor and scattering in all directions.  River flinches but says nothing, her mind racing but her words seeming to stick in her throat with Madame before her.

 

"I've taught you better than this, my dear," Madame states, her words hard and unforgiving.  "The man behind you is a  _liar_.  A snake.  No pretty gift can change that."

 

A liar.  A thief.  A criminal with royal blood.  River was taught all of those things.  Was taught Gallifrey's bloody history and could recite the Crown's atrocities in alphabetical order  _backwards_.  

 

"River..."  John speaks from behind her, voice soft and unsure.

 

That doesn't mean any of what Madame taught her was true.  Still, her training was thorough and there are voices in her mind screaming every reason why she should not trust John- why she should have never trusted him.

 

Madame takes River's chin in her hand, her nails pinching at the skin of River's cheeks as she forces her to look at John.  "Look at him.  You know who he is, the blood on his father's hands, his father's father, and  _his_  father before that.  Gallifreyan royalty is all the same, my dear.  He has a serpent's tongue- quick, sharp, and full of all the lies you want to hear.  But you're smarter than him, I made sure of it."

 

Releasing her chin, Madame wraps her fingers around River's wrist and guides her hand through the cell bars until her palm is pressed to John's chest, between his twin hearts.

 

"You know who he is," Madame repeats in a whisper at River's ear, and it almost feels as if she has been put under some sort of spell.  "You know who  _you_  are, and you know your purpose.  Now is the time, my pet."

 

River's Ora hums through her veins, the voice in her mind itching to release it.  She can feel John's life force- a pure, golden energy flowing just beneath her palm.  Hers for the taking.

 

But she doesn't want it.  The voice in her mind can scream away, and Madame can talk about the evils of the Crown until she is hoarse, but none of that can make River unsee the truth. 

 

At her lack of action, Madame tightens her grip on River's wrist, as if to threaten.  Madame's hand has always been swift to hurt, always harsh and eager to leave a mark.  So different from John's slow, sometimes clumsy caresses that only seem to heal.  If River only had touch alone to go on, the truth is still all too apparent.

 

Forcing past the lump in her throat, River speaks, "I don't want it."

 

The Ora can run through her veins just as it runs through the deepest roots in the Orendan earth, but without a will, it is useless.

 

Madame's hand at her shoulder grips to the point of painful as the woman hisses in her ear, "Must I remind you of your darling bluebird, my traitorous little witch? I can  _make you_  want it."

 

River thinks of her tiny bluebird, trapped in her palm with a broken wing, and it's tiny heart fluttering like mad as it chirped frantically in terror.  She looks at John now, also trapped and his twin hearts beating like drums beneath her hand.  The fear that had gripped him earlier is no longer there, replaced by something softer as he meets her gaze.  He is not her bluebird, and she is not the scared little girl she once was.

 

"Not this time," River speaks, feeling stronger with every word of defiance.

 

A moment of silence, then to her surprise, Madame releases her.  River is filled with blind relief for one brief moment, missing Madame's silent gesture to the guards as she musters a reassuring smile for John.  Then, strong, clammy hands grip her arms and drag her back.  In her surprise, she struggles for only a second, futilely twisting in their grasp and missing her mark with a poorly timed kick before they throw her in the cell opposite John.  Her shoulder collides with the brick, pain radiating to her neck and arm as the cell bars are locked behind her.

 

"I must admit, I am deeply disappointed in you, my pet," Madame tuts from the other side.  "I went through such trouble.  Years of training, wasted.  Now I'll have to get rid of him myself."

 

"You can't," River states.  "I'm not going to help you."

 

"Don't be so naive, dear.  He's Gallifreyan, not immortal.  Stop both hearts- no matter how- and he dies." 

 

River swallows back the fear itching to resurface.  "Then why did you need me?"

 

" _Did_?  Oh, don't sell yourself so short.  I still need you.  With him gone,  _you_  are the key to the Gallifreyan throne.  We're going to start all over, my dear, but not quite yet." 

 

Madame holds her hand out to the guard nearest her, who promptly places a small, glass bottle filled with purple liquid in her palm.  Holding it before River, she gives a smug grin and uncorks it.  There is a hiss, followed by faint wisps of smoke and a waft of something akin to the stench of rotten fruit.

 

River nearly gags, but Madame breathes it in with a smile.  "Something I've been working on since you killed my men in the forest.  Poison of the Judas Tree.  Shuts down both hearts, and stays in the blood long enough to fight off the regeneration energy.  Not quite as thrilling or rewarding as your Ora would have been, but effective nonetheless."

 

"It won't work," River argues, though she feels the lie the moment it leaves her mouth.

 

Madame steps closer to the cell bars, morphing her expression into one of mock pity as she whispers, "I'm going to kill him now."

 

As Madame turns from her, her fear returns in full force, slamming into her chest and constricting her hearts until she feels faint with it.  River presses herself into the bars as if she should be able to walk right through them, her fingers clenching tightly around the rusted metal as Madame unlocks John's cell.  Helplessly, River watches as the guards grip him by the upper arm and force him to his knees.  Madame speaks to John, but River can't hear over the white noise of panic rushing through her ears.  She has to do something, she has to get out of this cell.

 

Tearing her eyes away from the scene in front of her, River drops to a crouch, one knee digging into the jagged concrete beneath her.  The tunnels are old, their foundation cracked and broken, and her only hope is to dig to the earth beneath it.  She jams her fingers into a crack, pulling and scraping at a relatively smaller piece of stone in attempt to get it out from the larger, heavier piece under which it is wedged.  It wiggles, but not enough to break away entirely.

 

Distantly, River hears John begin to cough- as if he had swallowed something foul- but she refuses to look up and take in the reality.  Tears blur her sight and her mind screams  _TOO LATE TOO LATE TOO LATE._   Still, she continues, pulling at the broken piece of concrete until her fingers begin to bleed.  Finally, it gives, freed from the piece above it and leaving behind a patch of dirt no larger than her hand.  The earth here is hard and compact, and River scrapes at it with her bloodied fingers until she can sink them into the softer, damp soil beneath.

 

Closing her eyes, River takes a deep breath and stills herself as she calls upon her Ora.  It is restless in her veins, jittery with the fear that resides in her hearts.  Instead of attempting to calm it, she uses it to her advantage and sends it shaky and unstable into the ground far beneath her.  A beat of silence, and then the earth begins to rumble.  It feels like thunder, waves of energy pulsing through the ground and shaking everything above.  Like an earthquake, her surroundings begin to tremble.  The lights flicker, rubble rains from the tunnel ceiling, and just as she had hoped, the hinges of her cell break loose.  

 

The cell door crashes to the ground and everything that happens after that feels a bit like slow motion.  Ignoring the continued quaking as best she can, River finds her footing and leaps into action.  Madame turns at the sound of the fallen door, and River revels in the way her eye widens in surprise.  She runs full-force into her guardian, her extended hand crashing right to the center of the Madame's chest.

 

There is no victory speech, no time to dwell on the fact that her purpose is finally being fulfilled, and no acknowledgement that using her Ora to take a human life may very well take her own.  There is only River, Madame, and the beat of time between now and when they crash to the ground.  River reaches out with her Ora and is met with a dark life force filled with hatred and greed, a perfect mirror of Madame herself.  Her Ora wraps around Madame's life, and when River snatches it away, the act is simpler than she could have ever imagined.  There is a clap of sound, a wave of energy ripples through the air, and everything turns black.  When they hit the ground, Madame Kovarian is dead.

 

XxX

 

When River is brought back to consciousness, she feels groggy and unfocused.  Her limbs are heavy, her throat is dry, and she wonders at how she is breathing when she feels so weak.  Blinking to clear her vision, she forces herself into sitting position, and avoids looking at Madame's lifeless body to her right.  The quaking has stopped, dust seems to have settled, and the two guards are nowhere in sight.  John lies to her left, stretched on his stomach and his right arm extended toward her, fingers just inches from where she sits, as if he was reaching for her when-

 

No.  River shakes her head against the thought.  He's fine.

 

Hesitantly, she takes his hand, and the small relief she feels at not finding him cold to the touch is drowned by the way his hand lies heavy and motionless in her palm. 

 

"John?"  She speaks in a whisper, releasing his hand to move to his side.

 

With what feels like great difficulty, River rolls him onto his back and stares hopelessly down at his form.  His eyes are closed, his pretty face smudged with dirt.  She wants to call his name again, but unshed tears strangle her voice.  Trembling, River lies so that her ear is pressed to the center of John's chest, listening for the reassuring sound of his double hearts.

 

Heavy silence carries on for far too long, and River closes her eyes against the tears that spill down her cheeks.  Grief overwhelms all other thought, and she is helpless to do anything but lie there.

 

Time is lost to her, and she has no idea how long she remains in that very spot before the idea comes to her.  The Ora that runs through the planet keeps a balance, giving and taking life.  Perhaps the Ora under her skin is capable of both as well.

 

Taking Madame's life had nearly killed her- she feels it in her bones, in the sluggish way she moves, in the way her hearts seem to be beating so slow it is painful.  Surviving once was certainly lucky, something Madame told her would only be possible due to her regenerative abilities.  It is unlikely that it could save her a second time after using such powerful energy, but the possible result far outweighs the risk.

 

River sniffs as she sits up, splaying her hand across John's chest and closing her eyes.  Her Ora seems weaker than before, but just as determined as she reaches out to it.  In her mind, she pictures the energy of John's life force.  Golden, soft, and filled with so much it love it makes her hearts ache.  It is strong, and she can feel it just as if it were swirling in the air above her in bright, golden wisps.

 

The ache in her hearts lift, and a small smile crosses her lips because somehow, she knows this is going to work.  Leaning down, River presses a gentle kiss to his lips as she releases her Ora.  The last thing she feels is the puff of John's breath against her lips.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click 'next chapter' for the epilogue! <3


	12. once there was a way to get back homeward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's over now! I can't believe it! Thank you so so much for sticking with me through this fic- I love all of you!
> 
> Epilogue title from "Golden Slumbers" by the Beatles

 

 

John is exhausted.  Dark circles ring under his eyes, a layer of grime and dirt covers his skin, and unless his brief stint with death counts, he hasn't slept in days.  The infirmary of Gallifrey's northern palace is as cold as the frozen layer of Hell, but he barely notices.  Anxiety prickles under his skin and clouds his every thought as he paces restlessly in front of a door.  Just beyond is River, resting peacefully in an infirmary bed.  

 

The escape from Kovarian Manor had been an uneventful one.  Not a single soul had attempted to stop him as he exited the sewers with an unconscious River in his arms.  A servant he stopped for information on the whereabouts of Kovarian's spaceship had trembled as she answered, visibly shaking as she pointed to the staircase.  Reflecting on it now, John realizes that the young girl had been terrified.  She must have been informed of the three dead bodies in the sewers- seeing two of them alive would have been unsettling to say the least.

 

Well, hopefully two, John thinks as he glances at the door.  It's been two days- River should be awake now.  

 

She'll be fine, he tells himself for the hundredth time.  The physician said it may take more time for her to recover than expected.  Patience.

 

His mind slips back to Kovarian, and he is just wondering if the Orendans will lock the door to the sewers forever and leave her body there to rot, when his thoughts are interrupted by a voice calling his name.

 

"John!"

 

John turns, a smile crossing his face for the first time in two days.  "Father."

 

His father pulls John into a hug the moment they are in arms reach of one another.  The embrace is tight, but comforting as his father speaks, "I was in the Capitol, I got here as fast as I could."

 

John nods as they separate, and he is startled to find the other man's eyes glazed with tears.

 

"John, it's been  _months_.  I woke up and you were gone.  One of the spacecrafts was missing, but it was so unlike you to not to return by morning.  Weeks passed and I thought... _we all_  thought..."

 

"I'm fine," John promises, mustering a tired smile.  "I'm sorry for worrying you."

 

"I was told a rather mad story on my way here.  Orenda?  Kovarian?  Is it true?"

 

John nods and his father gives a disbelieving laugh.  A pause, then the king hesitantly, but hopefully asks, "And Melody?"

 

Another nod, and a wide smile breaks across his father's face.  The man is prepared to ask more, but then there is a loud crash from behind the door, followed by a shrill beeping from one of the medical machines.  Against the physician's orders- apparently John's anxious vibes could hinder River's recovery- John rushes into the room, eyes wide and hearts pounding.

 

River stands by the bed, cotton hospital gown falling off one shoulder, hair wild, eyes big, and brandishing a pencil from the bedside table at his sudden entrance.  The monitor for her vitals is smashed on the floor, and everything meant to be hooked to her has been ripped from place.

 

"John," River breathes, immediately dropping the pencil. 

 

He laughs, not from amusement- he's entirely positive that she could have easily murdered him with a pencil alone- but because he is so relieved to see her finally awake.

 

John has her gathered in his arms in an instant, burying his face into her curls as she clings tightly to him in return.  Pulling back, he keeps one arm around her waist, and tucks a curl behind her ear as he gives a small laugh.  "Guessing you have no idea where you are, then?"

 

"I don't recognize it," River admits, glancing around the room.  "But that doesn't mean I don't know exactly where I am." 

 

Attention fully on John now, River cups the side of his face and bestows him with a brilliant smile. 

 

"I'm home."

 

XxX

 

For River, the three months that follow feel something akin to a nightmare.  It is as if the life she remembers never happened, and the one she doesn't picks up as if she had never been gone.  She is given a too-big room in the palace, outfitted in expensive silk dresses, and is taken on a tour of Gallifrey where she garners stares of disbelief, or worse, happy tears and smiles and hugs from complete strangers.  To them, she used to be nothing more than a ghost.  To her, they never existed at all.

 

It is 'Melody' this, and 'Melody' that, and by the end of every day she wants to scream.  The only reprieve she finds is in the comfort of John's arms when she slips into his room at night.  He whispers ' _River'_  into her skin when they make love and it reminds her of who she truly is.  It keeps her grounded and assures her that the woman she is, is the woman John fell in love with.

 

Looking at herself in the vanity mirror of her dressing room, River gives a sigh.  Perhaps she just needs more time to adjust to this new life.

 

Standing, she smoothes out the ivory silk of her dress and frowns at the crimson ceremony robes hanging from a hook on the wall.  Years later she is still John's betrothed, and today they wed.

 

It's not that she doesn't want to marry John, it's just that this feels like so much more than a celebration of their love.  It is a life sentence to this planet.  A figurative shackle to the people here and to the duty she is expected to uphold.

 

Feeling nauseous, River turns away from the robes and wonders how different she would feel if Madame had never taken her away.  She remembers the dreams of her life here, running hand in hand with John through the forest instead of sitting pretty through any kind of ceremony or diplomatic dinner.  Maybe he would run with her this time, too.

 

River doesn't have time to seriously contemplate the thought before there is a knock at her door.  When she opens it, she is surprised to find John on the other side- she was almost sure it was someone ready to drag her to the altar.

 

Dressed handsomely in a three-piece suit, he leans against the doorframe and gives her a smile as he holds up the key fob to a spaceship. 

 

"Fancy a run, dear?"

 

River laughs in disbelief, and distantly wonders if she has more in common with her past self than she previously thought.  Beaming, she bestows him with a swift kiss and snatches the fob from his grasp.

 

River takes John's hand, and together they run.

 

 

 

 

**_End._ **

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3


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